L 1 D K/V  I 
OF  THE 

U N I VER5ITY 
or  ILLI  NOIS 


From  the  Library  of 
Dr.  R.  E.  Hieronymus  j 
1942  I 

3T8 

I TF6s 
I / e a 7 


NOTICE:  Return  or  renew  all  Library  Materials!  The  Minimum  Fee  for 
each  Lost  Book  is  $50.00. 

The  person  charging  this  material  is  responsible  for 
its  return  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  withdrawn 
on  or  before  the  Latest  Date  stamped  below. 

Theft,  mutilation,  and  underlining  of  books  are  reasons  for  discipli- 
nary action  and  may  result  in  dismissai  from  the  University. 

To  renew  call  Telephone  Center,  333-8400 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS  LIBRARY  AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 


AUG  2 9 1988 


UI(3  JUN  0 4 2d08 
C Esc'd  MAR  1 1 2(108 


L161— 0-1096 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Iliinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 

j 


https://archive.org/details/studentsmanualOOtodd 


THE 


STUDENT’S  MANUAL. 


BY 

REV.  JOHN  TODD.  O '- 


New  Yoke: 

JOHN  B.  ALDEN  PUBLISHER. 
1887. 


PREFA  GE.  y 


Haedly  any  class  of  men  are  so  difficult  to  be  reached  as  students, 
and  the  undertaking  is  hazardous ; but  no  class  of  men  are  so  open  to 
conviction,  so  alive  to  manly  principle,  so  susceptible  of  good  impres- 
sions, when  the  effort  to  aid  them  is  judicious  and  worthy  of  their 
attention.  Whether  the  present  attempt  is  a happy  one,  the  author  is 
not  presumptuous  enough  to  say.  The  highest  wish  of  his  heart  would 
> be  to  have  its  reception  and  success  commensurate  with  his  esteem  and 
1 love  for  those  for  whose  welfare  he  feels  the  strongest  interest,  and 
\ for  whose  benefit  he  has  written. 


( Scarcely  any  hour  can  be  more  anxious  to  the  parent  than  that  in 
1 which  he  takes  leave  of  his  child,  after  having  carried  him  away  from 

I home  to  some  public  Institution  for  the  purpose  of  study.  He  knows 

the  temptations  which  will  beset  his  child,  without  knowing  any  way 
by  which  to  shield  him.  I have  tried  to  make  this  book  such  a friend 
as  he  will  wish  to  leave  with  his  son  to  aid  him  in  forming  his  char- 
acter. 

! The  youth  who  goes  from  home  and  takes  his  place  among  his  fellows, 
/ at  a strange  place,  for  the  purpose  of  study,  feels  that  it  is  all  now  to 

him : he  is  inexperienced,  and  knows  not  how  to  form  the  character 
which  he  intends  to  possess.  He  has  no  friend  who  has  been  over  the 
ground,  and  knows  it  all,  to  whom  he  can  go  for  advice,  for  encour- 
agement and  aid.  For  such  I have  endeavored  to  write  this  book. 

In  the  different  professions,  there  are  multitudes  who  feel  that  they 
are  not  students,  have  not  the  habits,  the  character  of  students ; and 
yet  they  know  not  where  the  difficulty  is,  or  what  to  do.  If  such  do 
not  find  hints  in  this  volume  which  will  aid  and  encourage  them,  I shall 
have  deep  regrets,  and  no  small  mortification. 

Some  may  wonder  at  the  taste  which  has  now  and  then  interspersed 
a quotation  in  Latin.  Those  who  are  familiar  with  the  taste  of 
students,  know  how  much  they  admire  a beautiful  thought  in  beautful 
language,  and  how  much  more  highly  a nut  is  rehshed,  if  they  have 
to  crack  it. 

Why  is  not  the  work  more  decidedly  religious  ? Because  the  design 
( r of  it  is  to  aid  in  forming  the  whole  character  of  the  student.  The 
two  last  chapters,  it  is  hoped,  will  not  be  found  deficient  in  this  re- 


spect. 


May  He,  without  whose  blessing  every  attempt  at  being  useful  is 
lost,  own  it,  and  make  it  the  instrument  of  much  good  to  those  who 
are  the  hope  of  their  friends  and  the  hope  of  their  country, 

Northampton,  Mass.,  May  1,  1835. 


COJSfTENTB.  • 


\A 


HIMi/.llV 

lavmsnvor  iin* 


CHAPTER  1. 

PAGE 

Object  of  Study. — Iktkoductory.  7 

CHAPTER  II. 

Habits. --  M 

CHAPTER  HI. 

Study. ---53 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Readiitg. 69 

CHAPTER  V. 

Time. 84 

CHAPTER  VI. 

'JOYVERSATIOI^. 97 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Politeness  and  Subordination. 114 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Exercise.— Diet.— -Economy. 131 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Discipline  of  the  Heart. 148 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Object  of*  Life.  - - r - - - - ^ - 177 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE  STUDENT’S  MANUAL, 


I. 


OBJECT  OF  STUDY.— INTBODUCTORY. 


The  human  mind  is  the  brightest  display  of  the  power  and  skill  if 
the  Infinite  mind,  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  It  is  created  and 
placed  in  this  world  to  be  educated  for  a higher  state  of  existence. 
Here  fits  faculties  begin  to  unfold,  and  those  mighty  energies,  which 
are  to  bear  it  forward  to  unending  ages,  begin  to  discover  themselves. 
THa  object  of  training  such  a mind  should  be,  to  enable  the  soul  to  ful- 
r duties  well  here,  and  to  stand  on  high  vantage-ground,  when 
tves  this  cradle  of  her  being,  for  an  eternal  existence  beyond  the 


(There  is  now  and  then  a youth,  who,  like  Fergusson,  can  tend  sheep 
in  the  field,  and  there  accurately  mark  the  position  of  the  stars,  with 
a thread  and  beads,  and  with  his  knife  construct  a watch  from  wood  ; 
but  such  instances  are  rare.  Most  need  encouragement  to  sustain, 

I instruction  to  aid,  and  directions  bo  guide  them.  Few,  probably,  ever 
I accomplish  anything  like  as  much  as  they  expected  or  ought  ; and  I 
have  thought  that  one  reason  is,  that  students  waste  a vast  amount  of 
time  in  acquiring  that  experience  which  they  need.  As  I look  backA 
upon  the  days  when  I was  a ‘ ‘ student,  ’ I can  see  that  here  I went ) 
wrong,  and  there  I mistook  ; here  I missed  a golden  opportunity,  and/ 
there  I acquired  a wrong  habit,  or  received  a wrong  bias  ; and,  as  I^ 
sometimes  walk  past  a college,  as  it  is  lighted  up  for  evening  study,  ij 
pause,  and  sigh,  that  I cannot  go  back  and  begin  life  again,  carry ingi 


had  been  such  a book  as  I am  now  attempting  to  write  for  students, 
put  into  my  hands  at  an  early  period,  it  would  have  been  of  incalcu- 
lable advantage  to  me.  I have  strong  hopes  of  saying  what  will  be 
useful,  inasmuch  as  I shall  principally  draw  from  my  own  experience, 
and  from  the  remembrance  of  my  own  wants. 

The  reader  will  please  to  bear  in  mind,  that  the  only  object  I have 


S ' ; MAULT  CnAnAcmn  indelible.  [ch.  r. 

in  view,  is  to  be  useful  to  him — to  throw  out  such  hints  and  cautions, 
^ and  to  give  such  specific  directions,  as  will  aid  him  to  become  all  that 
the  fond  hopes  of  his  friends  anticipate,  and  all  that  his  own  heart 
ought  to  desire. 

I would  here  say  to  the  student,  that  the  character  which  he  now 
forms  and  sustains,  will  cling  to  him  through  life.  Young  men 
always  receive  impressions  concerning  each  other  which  nothing  can 
ever  efface.  The  very  nicknames  which  are  given  at  this  period,  and 
which  are  generally  indicative  of  some  peculiar  trait  of  character,  will 
never  be  forgotten.  His  moral  and  intellectual  character,  while 
young,  is  that  by  which  his  classmates,  especially,  will  invariably 
measure  him  through  life.  Is  he  unable  now,  or  indolent  now,  or 
vicious  now  ? Depend  upon  it,  his  character  is  stamped,  and  no  sub- 
sequent years  of  good-nature,  or  of  application,  or  of  moral  worth, 
can  ever  do  away  the  impressions  which  he  is  now  making.  Ask  any 
educated  man  about  the  character  of  his  fellow,  and  you  will  notice, 
that  he  at  once  goes  back  to  his  college-life,  and  dates  and  judges  from 
that  period.  Thus,  every  anecdote,  every  ludicrous  circumstance, 
whether  it  Avas  a mistake  in  reciting  or  judgment,  or  in  moral  conduct, 
will  be  repeated  over  the  land,  and  his  frailties  will  be  known  as 
widely  as  his  class  is  scattered. 

Ho  mistake  can  be  more  decided  than  that  of  supposing  that  you  are 
now  retired  from  the  world,  have  no  character  to  maintain,  and  no 
responsibility  resting  upon  you.  It  is  far  otherwise.  And  it  is 
peculiarly  trying,  that,  during  the  very  period  when  the  character  is 
forming,  it  is  vievved  by  all  around  you  as  if  it  were  already  and 
unalterably  formed,  and  judged  of  accordingly.  He  who  now  sits  by 
your  side  in  the  recitation-room,  has  every  trait  of  your  character 
exposed  to  his  view;  and  he  will  remember  every  trait,  and  he  will 
mark  you  tnrough  life,  at  the  place  where  you  now  stand.  Hever,  in 
fact,  does  so  great  a responsibility  rest  upon  you  as  while  a student, 
because  you  are  now  forming  your  character  and  habits,  and  setting 
your  standard ; and  because,  also,  your  contemporaries  will  seldom,  if 
ever,  alter  their  judgment  concerning  you.  If  you  are  stupid  and 
inaccurate  during  this  period,  though  you  should  hereafter  write  dic- 
tionaries, and  edit  classics,  and  dream  in  foreign  languages,  I very 
much  doubt  whether  your  friend,  now  at  your  elbow,  would  ever  give 
you  credit  for  anything  higher  than  dullness. 

Doubtless,  multitudes  are  now  in  the  process  of  education,  who  will 
never  reach  any  tolerable  standard  of  excellence.  Probably  some 
never  could,  but  in  most  cases  they  might.  The  exceptions  are  few ; 
and  probably  most  who  read  these  pages,  do  feel  a desire,  more  or  less 


CH.  t.J 


FOR  WHOM  WRITING. 


9 


strong,  of  fitting  themselves  for  respectability  and  usefulii  ess.  They 
are,  however,  ignorant  of  the  way ; they  are  surrounded  by  tempta- 
tions and  dangers;  they  soon  f rget  the  encouragements,  and  thss 
oscillate  between  hope  and  fear,  resolution  and  discouragement.  It  is 
for  such  that  I write.  And  sucn  I earnestly  entreat  not  to  lay  aside 
this  little  book  till  they  have  read  it,  and  weighed  it,  and,  if  they 
please,  cafl  the  v/riter  whatever  na.rd  names  occur  to  them.  My  pen 
will  probably  sometimes  seem  dull;  but  if  it  chould,  I hope  I may 
apologize  for  it  as  the  knight  did  for  his  slow-pacing  horse : — ‘ ‘ Hee  is  a 
rite  glide  creetur,  and  travels  all  the  ground  over  most  faithfully.” 

‘ ‘ When  I turned  in  at  night,  the  sea  was  smooth  and  bright  as  a 
mirror;  the  vast  firmament  seemed  to  descend  below  us;  the  ship 
appeared  to  be  suspended  in  the  center  of  an  immense  sphere,  and,  if  I 
may  say  so,  one  felt,  in  awe  and  silence,  the  majesty  of  space.  The 
sails  hung  idly  by  the  mast,  and  the  officers’  tread  along  the  deck  was 
the  only  sound  heard.  So  I left  them. 

‘ ‘ About  midnight  I was  awakened  by  a heavy  swing  of  my  cot, 
succeeded  by  a sudden  dash  to  the  other  side : the  water  was  pouring 
into  our  room,  and  I could  hear  its  rush  across  the  upper  decks,  where 
all  was  noise  and  rapid  motion.  I hurried  on  my  clothes,  and  ran  up: 
the  gun-deck  was  clear;  hammocks  had  already  been  lashed  up  and 
stowed;  it  was  lighted  up,  and  showed  it  flooded  in  its  whole  extent. 
I ascended  to  the  next:  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents,  but  I did  not 
feel  it,  so  deeply  absorbing  was  the  scene.  I wish  I could  describe  it. 
The  sky  was  in  a constant  blaze;  the  sea  was  not  high,  but  broken, 
confused,  and  foaming,  and  taking  from  the  lightning  an  unnatural 
hue.  Above  me  were  the  yards  covered  with  human  beings,  thrown 
by  each  flash  in  strong  outline,  struggling  hard  to  secure  the  canvas 
and  to  maintain  their  precarious  footing.  The  ship  rolled  tremen- 
dously. And  no^v  add  the  wild  uproar  of  the  elements,  ‘the  noise  of 
many  waters,  ’ the  deep  and  constant  roar  of  the  winds,  the  cries  of 
the  men  aloft,  the  heavy  and  rapid  tread  of  those  below,  the  reiterated 
commands  of  officers,  and  rising  above  all  this,  the  firm  and  composed 
orders  of  the  trumpet,  and  then  add  to  tliis  the  heavy-rolling  thunder, 
at  times  drowning  all  these  sounds.  The  first  lieutenant  had  the  deck ; 
he  had  sprung  to  it  at  the  first  alarm,  and,  seizing  the  trumpet,  he 
called  Black,  his  favorite  helmsman.  The  ship  was  soon  under  snug 
sail,  and  now  dashed  onward  at  a furious  rate,  giving  to  the  gale  a yet 
wilder  character. 

“ All  at  once  a rocky  island  seemed  to  start  up  from  the  water ; but 
the  next  broad  flash  showed  a good  offing,  and  we  were  safe ; when 
suddenly  came  a loud  shout  from  the  forecastle — ‘ A sad  close  on  the 


VAL  UE  OF  TIME  AND  OPPORTUNITY.  [cii  i 

larboard  bow,  sir.’  I trembled  then — not  for  ourselves,  for  we  shoulc 
have  gone  over  them,  and  have  scarcely  felt  the  shock— but  for  th( 
poor  wretches  whom  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  save.  The  heln 
was  put  hard  down : we  shot  by,  and  I again  breathed  freely,  wher 
some  one  bade  me  to  look  up  to  our  spars.  I did  so,  and  found  everv 
upper  yard-arm  and  mast  tipped  with  lightning.  Each  blaze  was 
twice  as  large  as  that  of  a candle;  and  thus  we  flew  on,  with  the  ele 
ments  of  destruction  playing  above  our  heads.” 

Can  any  one  read  this  beautiful  description  of  one  of  our  own  proud 
sliips  in  a storm,  and  fail  to  reflect,  that  discipline  is  the  life  and  sal- 
vation of  such  a ship  in  such  a storm?  But  I have  copied  it  for  a 
different  purpose;  and  that  is,  to  call  the  attention  of  the  reader  a 
single  moment  to  the  “helmsman,  Black.”  Can  there  be  a doubt  but 
the  sailor  who  could  take  the  helm  in  these  circumstances,  and  hold 
the  ship  firmly  on  her  course  amid  the  storm,  shunning  rocks,  and  just 
shooting  by  smaller  vessels,  must  have  courage,  presence  of  mind,  and 
great  promptness  of  character?  Or  can  there  be  a doubt,  but,  if  he 
had  been  properly  educated  when  young,  he  might  have  stood  in  the 
lieutenant’s  place,  and  held  the  trumpet,  or  even  commanded  the  ship? 
It  is  my  earnest  wish  to  aid  such  as  have  capacity  in  seizing  the  present, 
moment,  and  while  they  have  the  opportunity,  in  so  laying  their  plans, 
and  in  so  forming  their  habits,  as  to  make  the  most  of  all  their  endow- 
ments. There  are,  doubtless,  some  who  will  read  these  pages  without 
benefit.  May  I suggest  a possible  reason  ? “A  mole,  having  consulted 
many  oculists  for  the  benefit  of  his  sight,  was  at  last  provided  with  a 
good  pair  of  spectacles;  but,  upon  his  endeavoring  to  make  use  of 
Biem,  his  mother  told  him,  that,  though  they  might  help  the  eye  of  a 
man^  they  could  be  of  no  use  to  a mole.^^ 

You  may  converse  with  any  man,  however  distinguished  for  attain- 
ments or  habits  of  application,  or  power  of  using  vdiat  he  knows,  and' 
he  will  sigh  over  the  remembrances  of  the  past,  and  tell  you,  that, 
there  have  been  many  fragments  of  time  which  he  has  wasted,  and ; 
many  opportunities  which  he  has  lost  forever.  If  he  had  only  seized 
upon  the  fleeting  advantages,  and  gathered  up  the  fragments  of  time, 
he  might  have  pushed  his  researches  out  into  new  fields,  and,  like  the 
mimortal  Bacon,  have  amassed  vast  stores  of  knowledge.  The  mighty 
minds  which  have  gone  before  us,  have  left  treasures  for  our  inherit- 
ance, and  the  choicest  gold  is  to  be  had  for  the  digging.  How  great 
the  dissimilarity  between  a naked  Indian,  dancing  with  joy  over  a 
new  feather  for  his  head-dress,  and  such  a mind  as  that  of  JSTewton  or 
of  Boyle ! And  what  makes  the  difference  ? Therj^  i^  mind  enough  in 
the  savage ; he  can  almost  outdo  the  instincts  of  the  prey  which  he 


SAVAGE  AND  CVLTiVAT^ED  MEN  GOMPAHED. 


11 


eit.  i.j 

hunts;  but 'his  soul  is  like  the  marble  pillar.  There  is  a beautiful/ 
statue  in  it,'15ut  the  hand  of  the  sculptor  has  never  laid  the  chisel  upon  [ 
itT]  The  mkid  of  the  savage  has  never  been  disciplined  by  study ; and 
ifT^therefore,  in  the  comparison,  appears  like  the  rough  bison  of  the 
forest,  distinguished  only  for  strength  and  ferocity. 

I am  not  now  to  discuss  the  question  whether  the  souls  of  men  are 
naturally  equal.  If  they  are,  it  is  certain  that,  though  the  fact  were 
proved,  it  would  be  of  little  practical  use,  since  the  organization  of 
bodies  is  so  different  that  no  training  can  make  them  alike.  But  this, 

I think,  may  safely  be  affirmed,  that  every  one  has  naturally  the 
power  of  excelling  in  some  one  thing.  You  may  not  excel  in  mathe- 
matics, or  as  a writer,  or  a speaker ; but  I honestly  believe  that  every 
one  of  my  readers  is  capable  of  excelling  in  some  department,  and  will 
surely  do  so,  if  faithful  to  himself. 

There  was  once  a boy*  put  under  the  care  of  the  Jesuits,  who  was 
noted  for  nothing  but  his  stupidity.  These  teachers  tried  him  abund- 
antly, and  could  make  nothing  of  him.  How  little  did  they  think  that 
the  honor  of  being  his  instructors  was  to  raise  their  order  in  view  of 
the  world!  At  length,  one  of  the  fathers  tried  him  in  geometry, 
which  so  suited  his  genius,  that  he  became  one  of  the  first  mathema- 
ticians of  his  age.  - Marcus,  the  son  of  Cicero,  was  sent  to  Athens,  and 
had  all  the  first  masters  that  could  be  procured ; and  he  made  a per- 
fect  blocldiead.  And  yet  I feel  confident,  that,  had  the  right  place 

been  found  for  him,  he  would  have  been  more  than  respectable  in  it. 
JNon  omnes  omnia  possumus. 

I once  saw  a little  boy,  on  a public  occasion,  while  thousands  were  ^ 
gazing  at  him  with  unaffected  astonishment,  climb  the  hghtning-rod  ^ 
on  the  lofty  spire  of  a meeting-house.  The  wind  blew  high,  and  the 
rod  shook  and  trembled ; but  up  he  went,  till  he  had  reached  the  vane, 

195  feet  high.  AU,  every  moment,  expected  to  see  him  fall.  But 
what  was  our  amazement  to  see  him  mount  the  vane,  and  place  his 
little  feet  upon  it,  throwing  his  arms  aloft  in  the  air,  and  turning 
round,  as  the  wfind  turned  his  shaking  foothold ! He  stood  there  tifi 
weary,  and  came  down  at  his  leisure.  Here  was  a mind  capable,  I 
doubt  not,  of  high  enterMse.  And  yet  he  has  never  been  heard  of 
since.  And  why  not?  Either  his  mind  has  not  been  cultivated,  or 
else  his  genius  has  been  bent  out  of  its  proper  channel.  I will  just 
add,  that  the  poor  boy  was  fined  for  setting  so  dangerous  an  example 
before  the  boys  who  saw  him;  but  I could  not  help  wishing  that,  while 

* Clavius,  who  died  in  1612,  aged  75.  His  works  were  in  5 vols.  folio,  and  greatly 
admired. 


12 


fOLLY  dY’EXPMGTINO  TO  BE  A OSmtXS. 


[c®.  i 


1 

tVSlL  “ '■» 

Th.S'”  'i™  "■‘'H-  S™-'* 

“i  »S;h?'lCES,S.'S  rsii 'T  ’S*°'  « 

» iOTrr«f " S 

stratagem.”  Dean  Swift,  in  liis'cLbrated  Tmvpk  f ^ 

tions  of  these  ffeniuses  and  tell«  na  +1+7  1 found  whole  na- 

customer  beforIXm,  whose  SeLX  S “ 

quadrant!  Never  set  un  anXw  X.  I taking  with  a 

to  the  character.  But  fLv  sucli  are  born^imo  H .%  claim 

few,  though  envied  ffreX  Xlf  L w > ” = and  of  those 

indeed,  lefve  the  worfl  Sr  o "be  t^  greatly,  but  very  few, 

of  hard  study  is  not  to  Z w o.n  1 ^ The  object 

are  formed  in  a common  mokSnd  firtiiem  fX  ‘'"‘r 

usefulness.  JN’othino'  is  so  imiph  active  and  decisive 

reputation  of  being  a^ffenius-  and  mnnS*  % yf^'lp  “‘"lo  as  the 

patience  for  laborSus  Sent, on  the  want  of 

P„i„s  „ rsEs  “S"  VS’  SfEiC  r ';  - “■s;^  “* 

.ton,  with  great  modestv  savs  thnf  hir  Isaac  JNew- 

■ between  his  mind  and  Xe  ininrls  pf  and  only  difference 

having  more  natXnX  aX  others,  consisted  solely  in  his 

iSiF 

Johnson  asserts,  that,  if  any  one  would  be  master  of  theEnghsh 


Wirt. 


SWDmTS  MUST  LAUOn. 


6it.  I.J 


la 


language,  he  must  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the  reading  of  Addison. 
It  is  still  more  emphatically  true,  that,  if  any  one  would  be  distin- 
guished, he  must  labor  for  it.  There  is  no  real  excellence  without 
patient  study.  Those  who  have  now  and  then  risen  up  in  the  world, 
without  education,  and  without  study,  have  shed  but  a doubtful  light, 
and  that  but  for  a moment.  Many  a youth  has  kindled  at  the  story 
of  Tomaso  Angelo,  who  was  one  day  hawking  fish  through  the  streets 
of  Ilaples,  and  the  next  was  master  of  armies  and  fleets,  and  made  his 
will  the  rule  for  an  empire.  The  army  obeyed  him ; the  banditti 
quailed  before  him ; and  never  was  a man  more  absolute  in  his  will. 
But  his  short  reign  of  nine  days  was  marked  with  great  folly,  cruelty, 
and  despotism ; and  such  examples  must  ever  stand  before  the  world 
as  among  the  possible  things;  but  also  among  the  improbable,  and 
still  more  undesirable. 

Set  it  down  as  a fact,  to  which  there  are  no  exceptions,  that  we  must 
labor  for  all  that  we  have,  and  that  nothing  is  worth  possessing  oy , 
offering  to  others,  which  cost  us  nothing.  Gilbert  Wakefield  tells  us, 
that  he  wrote  his  own  Memoirs  (a  large  octavo)  in  six  or  eight  days. 
It  cost  him  nothing;  and,  what  is  very  natural,  it  is  worth  nothing. 
You  might  yawn  scores  of  such  books  into  existence;  but  who  would 
be  the  wiser  or  the  better?  fWealHike  gold,  but  dread  the  digging.  ^ 
The  cat  loves  the  fish,  but  wilrnotwade  to  catch  them; — amat  pisces/ 
sed  non  vult  tingere  plantas. 

Those  islands  which  so  beautifully  adorn  the  Pacific,  and  which,  but 
for  sin,  would  seem  so  many  Edens,  were  reared  up  from  the  bed  of 
the  ocean  by  the  little  coral  insect,  which  deposits  one  grain  of  sand 
at  a time,  till  the  whole  of  those  piles  are  reared  up.  Just  so  with 
human  exertions.  The  greatest  results  of  the  mind  are  produced  by 
small,  but  continued  efforts.  I have  frequently  thought  of  the  motto 
of  one  of  the  most  distinguished  scholars  in  this  country,  as  peculiarly 
appropriate.  As  near  as  I remember,  it  is  the  picture  of  a mountain, 
with  man  at  its  base,  with  his  hat  and  coat  lying  beside  him,  and  a 
pickax  in  his  hand;  and  as  he  digs,  stroke  by  stroke,  his  patient  look 
corresponds  with  his  words — ' Eittle  by  little.  ’ ’ 

The  first  and  great  object  of  education  is,  to  discipline  the  mind.  It 
is  naturally,  like  the  colt,  wild  and  ungoverned.  Let  any  man  who 
has  not  subdued  his  mind,  more  or  less,  by  close  thought,  sit  down  and 
take  hold  of  a subject,  and  try  to  “think  it  out.”  The  result  will  be, 
that  he  cannot  hold  his  own  thoughts  upon  the  point.  They  fly  off — 
they  wander  away.  He  brings  them  back,  and  determines  now  to 
hold  his  attention  there ; when,  at  once,  ere  he  knows  how,  he  again 
finds  himself  away.  The  process  is  repeated,  till  he  gives  it  up  in  dis- 


14 


(JONCmfRATIOJS  OF  THOUGHT. 


[ctt.  t 


eouragement,  or  else  goes  to  sleep.  I once  heard  a young  man  com- 
plaining that  he  could  not  keep  his  mind  fixed  on  a point.  ‘ ‘ It  I’olled 
off  like  a barrel  from  a piu and  he  gave  some  hints  that  possibly  it 
might  be,  that  his  mind  was  so  great!  His  gravity  altogether  exceeded 
that  of  his  associates,  to  whom  he  was  giving  the  explanation.  How 
many  great  minds  would  there  be,  if  such  indications  were  to  be  relied 
on? 

In  the  period  which  belongs  to  you  as  a student^  then  it  is  not  im- 
portant that  you  should  try  to  lay  up  a vast  amount  of  information, 
tinder  the  chapter  on  Heading,  I shall  hope  to  throw  out  such  hints  as 
will  enable  you  to  save  what  you  do  read.  The  object  now  is,  to  lit 
the  mind  for  future  acquisitions,  and  future  usefulness.  The  magazine 
’will  be  filled  soon  enough ; and  we  need  not  be  too  anxious  to  fill  it 
while  we  are  getting  it  ready  for  use.  I am  desirous  that  you  have  it 
strongly  impressed  on  the  memory,  that  the  great  object  now  is,  to  set 
the  mind  out  on  a course  which  she  can  successfully  pursue  herself,  and 
that,  too,  through  life. 

You  must  calculate  to  improve  through  life;  and,  therefore,  now  try 
to  form  habits  of  study,  and  learn  how  to  study  to  advantage.  “Hew- 
ton  was  in  his  eighty -fifth  year  improving  his  Chronology;  and  Waller, 
at  eighty-two,  is  thought  to  have  lost  none  of  his  poetical  fire.” 

Make  it  the  first  object  to  be  able  to  fix  and  hold  your  attention 
upon  your  studies.  He  who  can  do  this  has  mastered  many  and  great 
difficulties ; and  he  who  cannot  do  it,  will  in  vain  look  for  success  in 
any  department  of  study.  “To  effect  any  purpose  in  study,  the  mind 
must  be  concentrated.  If  any  other  object  plays  on  the  fancy  than 
that  which  ought  to  be  exclusively  before  it,  the  mind  is  divided,  and 
both  are  neutralized,  so  as  to  lose  their  effect — just  as  when  I learned 
two  systems  of  short-hand:  I was  familiar  with  Gurney’s  method,  and 
wrote  it  with  ease ; but  when  I took  it  into  my  head  to  learn  Byroms, 
they  destroyed  each  other,  and  I could  write  neither.”  What  is  com- 
monly called  abstraction  in  study ^ is  nothing  more  than  having  the 
attention  so  completely  occupied  with  the  subject  in  hand,  that  the 
mind  takes  notice  of  nothing  without  itself.  One  of  the  greatest 
minds,  which  this,  or  any  other  country,  ever  produced,  has  been 
known  to  be  so  engrossed  in  thinking  on  a particular  subject,  that  his 
horse  has  waded  through  the  corner  of  a pond,  yet  though  the  water 
covered  the  saddle,  he  was  wholly  insensible  to  the  cause  of  his  being 
wet.  I mention  this,  not  to  recommend  such  an  abstraction,  but  to 
show,  that  he  who  has  his  attention  fixed,  and  the  power  of  fixing  it 
when  he  pleases,  will  be  successful  in  study.  Heed  I say  here,  that 
you  can  never  command  the  attention,  if  you  are  in  the  habit  of 


CH.  I.] 


CONCENTRATION  OF  THOUGHT. 


15 


yielding  to  your  appetites  and  passions?  “J^o  man,”  says  one  who  ; 
knew,  ‘ ‘ whose  appetites  are  his  masters,  can  perform  the  duties  of  his 
nature  with  strictness  and  regularity.  He  that  would  be  superior  to 
external  influence,  must  first  become  superior  to  his  own  passion.” 
Why  does  the  boy,  who  has  a large  sum  upon  his  slate,  scowl,  and  rub 
out,  and  begin  again,  and  grow  discouraged?  Because  he  has  not  yet 
learned  to  command  his  attention.  He  was  going  on  well,  when  some 
new  thought  flashed  into  his  mind,  or  some  new  object  caught  his  eye, 
and  he  lost  the  train  of  calculation.  Why  has  that  Latin  or  Greek 
word  so  puzzled  you  to  remember,  that  you  have  had  to  look  it  out  in 
your  dictionary  some  ten  or  dozen  times  ? And  why  do  you  now  look 
at  it  as  at  a stranger,  whose  name  you  ought  to  know,  but  which  you 
cannot  recall  ? Because  you  have  not  yet  acquired  fully  the  power  of 
axing  your  attention.  That  word  would  have  been  remembered  long 
since,  if  it  had  not  passed  as  a shadow  before  your  mind  when  you 
looked  at  it.  A celebrated  authoress,  who  states  that  she  reserves  all 
her  i’s  to  be  dotted,  and  her  t’s  to  be  crossed,  on  some  sick  day,  might 
have  given  a more  philosophical  reason  ; and  that  is,  that  she  could  not 
bear  to  have  her  attention  interrupted  a single  moment,  when  writing 
with  the  most  success. 

The  difficulty  of  confining  the  attention  is  probably  the  secret  of 
the  plan  of  Demosthenes,  who  shut  himself  up  in  his  celebrated  dark 
cave  for  study ; and  this  will  account  for  the  fact,  that  a person  who  is 
unexpectedly  deprived  of  the  use  of  his  eyes,  will  not  unfrequently  make 
advances  in  thought,  and  show  a strength  of  mind,  unknown  before. 

I have  frequently  seen  boys  take  their  books  on  a summer’s  day,  and 
flee  from  their  room  to  the  grove,  and  from  the  grove  back  again,  full  ,, 
of  uneasiness,  and  in  vain  hoping  that  changing  the  place  would  give 
them  some  new  power  over  the  roving  attention,  and  that  indescribable 
restlessness,  so  inseparable  from  the  early  efforts  to  subdue  the  mind. 
It  is  all  in  vain.  You  cannot  fly  from  yourself;  and  the  best  way  is, 
to  sit  directly  down  in  your  room,  and  there  command  your  attention 
to  fix  itself  upon  the  hard,  dry  lesson,  and  master  it ; and  when  you 
have  brought  this  rover  to  obey  you  once,  he  will  be  more  ready  to 
obey  the  next  time.  Attention  wiU  more  readily  come  at  your  call  to- 
morrow than  to-day. 

Patience  is  a virtue  kindred  to  attention ; and  without  it,  the  mind 
cannot  be  said  to  be  disciplined.  Patient  labor  and  investigation  are 
not  only  esssential  to  success  in  study,  but  are  an  unfailing  guarantee 
to  success.  The  young  man  is  in  danger  of  feeling  “that  he  will  strilre 
out  something  new.  His  spirits  are  buoyant  and  his  hopes  sanguine.  ’ ’ 
He  knows  not  the  mortified  feeling  of  being  repeatedly  defeated  by 


u 


PATIENCE  NECESSARY. 


[CH.  t 


himselZ  He  will  burst  upon  the  world  at  once,  and  strike  the  blows  f 
of  a giant,  while  his  arm  is  that  of  a child.  He  is  not  to  toil  up  the  \ 
nill,  and  wait  for  years  of  self-discipline,  close,  patient  study,  and  i 
hard  labor— not  he;  but  before  you  know  it,  he  will  be  on  the  heights  i 
of  the  highest  Alps,  with  a lofty  feeling,  looking  down  upon  the  i 
creepers  below ! Hence,  multitudes  waste  hfe,  and  absolutely  fritter  I 
away  their  existence,  in  doing  nothing,  except  waiting  for  a golden  it 
m^portunity  to  do  something  great  and  magnificent.  Did  not  Patrick 
Henry  burst  upon  the  world  at  once,  and  at  once  exhibit  the  strength 
of  a giant?  If  he  did,  he  is  no  specimen  of  ordinary  minds,  and  no  / 
man  has  a right  to  presume  upon  anything  more  than  an  intellect  of/ 
ordinary  dimensions  as  his  own.  What  multitudes  of  men  lie  still,  an(f 
never  lift  the  pen,  because  the  time  is  not  come!  W^hen  they  com<5 
out,  it  must  be  in  a ‘great  book,”  a splendid  address,  or  some  great 
effort.  The  tree  must  not  be  allowed  to  grow  by  inches ; no,  at  once 
the  sapling  must  be  loaded  with  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  threescore 
years.  Alas!  trees  planted  and  watered  by  such  expectations  vill 
never  be  more  than  dwarfs.  Franklin  rose  high,  and  his  name  is 
engraven  deep  and  fair  on  the  roll  of  immortality;  but  he  began  his 
greatness  by  making  an  almanac : he  continued  to  make  it  for  years, 
and  rose,  step  by  step,  till  he  was  acknowledged  as  the  head  of  modern 
philosophers.  Every  young  man  ought  to  remember,  that  he  who 
would  carry  the  ox,  must  every  day  shoulder  the  calf.  Ferret  tauricm 
qui  tulit  mtulctm.  That  great  man,  who  returned  to  his  study,  and, 
finding  that  his  little  dog  had  turned  over  the  table,  and  burned  up 
the  papers  on  which  he  had  been  engaged  for  years,  yet  calmly  said, 
“You  have  done  me  a great  mischief.  Diamond,”  showed  a soul  truly 
great;  and  its  greatness  in  this  instance  consisted  in  his  patience. 
Without  a mumur  he  sat  down,  and  began  to  do  over  the  same  great 
labor.  He  lived  to  complete  it ; and  it  was  the  admiration  of  the 
learned  world.  Yet  how  few  have  the  patience  thus  to  sit  down  and 
labor  day  by  day  for  years ! It  is  neither  a small  nor  an  easy  part  of 
education  to  cultivate  this  trait  of  character. 

The  student  should  learn  to  think  and  act  for  himself.  True  orig- 
inality consists  in  doing  things  well,  and  doing  them  in  your  own  way. 

A mind  half- educated  is  generally  imitating  .'hers.  “Ho  man  was 
jever  great  by  imitation.”  One  great  reason  is,  that  it  is  so  much 
easier  to  copy  the  defects  and  the  objectionable  parts  of  a great  man’s 
character,  than  to  imitate  his  excellences,  that  we  gain  only  the 
former.  Alexander  the  Great  had  a foolish  tutor,  who  used  to  call 
him  Achilles.  He  was  taught  to  admire  that  character.  But  when 
he  came  to  imitate  Achilles,  what  did  he  do?  He  imitated  one  of  the 


CH.  I.J 


INDEPENDENCE  OF  CHAR  ACTED. 


17 


most  cruel  and  detestable  actions  in  that  hero’s  life.  He  dragged  the 

fovernor  of  a town  through  the  streets  after  his  chariot.  This  was 
ecause  the  foolish  teacher,  Lysimachus,  taught  him  to  imitate  as  well 
as  admire.  It  has  been  more  than  strongly  conjectured,  that  France 
murdered  her  Idng,  the  inoffensive  and  amiable  Louis  XYI.,  because 
England  once  beheaded  a king!  Strange  that  even  nations  cannot 
become  imitators  without  copying  that  which  is  atrocious!  Xot  a few 
waste  their  lives,  and  lose  all  discipline  and  improvement,  by  an  in- 
sensible and  unconscious  habit  of  imitating  others.  Of  the  multitudes 
who  imitated  Johnson,  was  there  one  who  had  anything  more  than  his/ 

5>ous,  inflated  language?  They  seemed  to  feel  that  they  were 
ing  the  club  of  Hercules ; but  the  club,  in  every  instance,  was 
hollow,  and  the  blow  resulted  in  nothing  but  sound.  Of  the  many 
who  tried  to  follow  in  the  wake  of  Byron,  is  there  one  who  wdll  live  in 
song?  Xot  one.  They  could  copy  nothing  but  his  measure  and  his 
wickedness,  borrowing  his  vileness  without  his  genius.  The  lion  him- 
self is  fast  turning  to  corruption,  but  no  honey  will  be  found  in  the 
carcass;  and  as  for  his  followers,  the  world  was  relieved  from  their 
curse  by  their  decaying  before  they  could  taint  the  moral  atmosphere. 
It  is  vastly  more  easy  to  imitate  and  borrow,  both  matter  and  manner, 
than  to  have  them  of  your  own.  But  set  it  down,  that  no  imitator 
ever  reached  anything  like  eminence.  You  must  have  a character  of 
your  own,  and  rules  by  which  that  character  is  regulated.  It  has  been 
said  of  Franklin,  that  he  was  a philosopher,  because,  in  his  childhood, 
he  formed  those  rules  w^hich  regulated  him  even  in  old  age.  “My 
father,  ’ ’ says  Andrew  Fuller,  ‘ ‘ was  a farmer ; and,  in  my  younger 
days,  it  was  a great  boast  among  the  ploughmen  that  they  could 
plough  a straight  line  across  the  furrows  or  ridges  of  the  field.  I 
thought  I could  do  this  as  well  as  any  of  them.  One  day,  I saw  such 
a line,  which  had  just  been  drawn,  and  I thought,  ‘Xow  I have  it.’ 
Accordingly  I laid  hold  of  the  plough,  and,  putting  one  of  the  horses 
into  the  furrow  which  had  just  been  made,  I resolved  to  keep  him 
walking  in -it,  and  thus  secure  a parellel  line.  By  and  by,  however,  I 
observed  that  there  were  what  might  be  termed  wriggles  in  this  furrow^ ; 
and  when  I came  to  them,  they  turned  out  to  be  lai^ger  in  mine  than 
in  the  original.  On  perceiving  this,  I threw  the  plough  aside,  and 
determined  nearer  to  he  an  imitator.  ’ ’ Let  it  be  remembered  that  we 
cannot  copy  greatness  or  goodness  by  any  effort.  We  must  acquire  it 
by  our  own  patience  and  clihgence.  Nil  sine  magno  vita  labor e dedit 
mortalihus. 

Another  object  of  study  is,  to  form  the  judgment^  so  that  the  mind 
cannot  only  investigate,  but  weigh  and  balance  opinions  and  theories. 

% 


18 


THE  JUDGMENT. 


[CH. 


Without  this  you  will  never  be  able  to  decide  what  to  read  or  what  t^ 

Somrof^thp’  ""^^1  f'istrust,  or  what  opinions  to  receive 

Some  of  the  most  aborious  men  and  diligent  readem  pass  throus-h  lift 

anything-  desirable,  for  the  want  of  what  mai 
be  called  a well-Ulanced  judgment.  The  last  theory  which  they  heai 

thS  read^irt'l’  ^ejicient  as  to  proof  from  facts;  the  lasfbool 

they  read  is  the  most  wonderful,  though  it  may  be  worthless*  the  Incji 

Ren  the  most  valuable,  because  least  is  known  about  him 

Sriife  if"'  which  have  no  use  in  pra™ 

+)’  ^ *iT®  aborious  trifling— nihil  which 

k b^Jin  ”'T  for  anything  valuable.  It  leads  to  a wide  field,  which 
tlio^  r ^ shepherd,”  says  an  Italian  au- 

thor, -u  ho  used  to  divert  himself  in  his  solitudes  with  tossing  up 
eggs  and  catching  them  again  without  breaking  them ; in  whicf  he 
f a degree  of  perfection,  that  he  would  keep  up 
TT'"*  together,  playing  in  the  air,  and 

ti  hands  by  turns.  I think  I never  saw  greater  severity 

s foce;  for,  by  his  wonderful  perseverance  and  appl^ 
cation,  he  had  contracted  the  seriousness  and  gravity  of  a privy-coim- 

Tn  raVttntir^  myself,  that  the  same  assiduity 

and  attention,  had  they  been  rightly  applied,  might  have  made  him  a 

greater  mathematici, in  than  Archimedek  ” laue  nim  a 

I have  known  a boy— and  such  cases  are  not  rare— spend  time 
enough  in  learning  to  read  with  the  book  bottom  upwards--whioh  he 
(iKl  iiith  great  fluency- to  have  made  him  acquainted  ivith  all  the 
mmuti®  of  ye  Latin  grammar.  This  is  not  merely  time  wasted,  but 

mpfitf  ^ fo*"  ®y-ophe-way  things  and  useless  acquire- 

ments. It  IS  no  small  part  of  education  and  of  study,  to  know  what 
you  do,  and  what  you  do  not,  wish  to  know. 

p,  by  anything  I have  said,  an  impression  has  been  made  that  I do 
not  deem  it  necessary  for  a man  to  be  familiar  with  a wide  circle  of 
knowledge,  in  order  to  become  known,  influential,  and  useful,  [ trust 
wn  f T corrected  before  the  reader  closes  this  book. 

What  I wish  to  say  here  is,  that  the  great  object  of  the  student  is  to 
prepare  his  mind  to  use  materials  which  may  hereafter  be  gathered ; 
but  not  now  to  gather  them.  One  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of 
this  age  and  nation,  whose  voice  has  been  heard  in  lands  distant  from 
ours,  IS  said  to  be  remarkable  for  this  faculty— that,  when  he  wants 
information  on  any  subject,  he  seems  to  know,  intuitively,  who  and 
what  shall  be  laid  under  immediate  tribute.  He  does  not  ^re  over  all 
that  this  or  that  man  has  written,  but  gets  light  from  aU  quarters,  and 
then,  hke  the  burning-glass,  condenses  and  brings  to  a focus  all  the  ho^ht 


l.j  the  mine  IMPIiOVEE  BY  EXEUGlSE.  10 

and  heat  which  are  necessary  to  consume  obstacles  and  objections.  Such 
a habit  is  worth  all  the  scraps  of  learning  and  information  which  could 
be  laid  up  in  a mind  which  knows  of  no  use  in  knowledge  but  the 
pleasure  which  it  affords  while  in  the  act  of  acquiring. 

The  great  instrument  of  affecting  the  world  is  the  mind ; and  no 
instrument  is  so  decidedly  and  continually  improved  by  exercise  and 
use  as  the  mind.  Many  seem  to  feel  as  if  it  were  not  safe  to  put  forth 
all  their  powers  at  one  effort.  You  must  reserve  your  strength  for 
great  occasions,  just  as  you  would  use  your  horse  moderately  and 
carefully  on  common  occasions,  but  give  him  the  spur  on  occasions  of 
great  emergency.  This  might  be  well,  were  the  mind  in  any  respect 
like  the  bones  and  muscles  of  the  horse.  Some,  when  they  are  con- 
triving to  see  how  little  mental  effort  will  answer,  and  how  far  and 
wide  a few  feeble  thoughts  may  be  spread,  seem  more  like  students 
than  at  any  other  time,  as  if  it  were  dangerous  to  task  the  mind  too 
often,  lest  her  stores  be  exhausted,  or  her  faculties  become  weakened. 
The  l)ow  may  be  but  half  bent,  lest  it  be  overstrained,  and  lose  its 
power.  But  you  need  have  no  such  fears.  You  may  call  upon  your 
mind,  to-day,  for  its  highest  efforts,  and  stretch  it  to  the  uttermost  in 
your  power,  and  you  have  done  yourself  a kindness.  The  mind  will 
be  all  the  better  for  it.  To-morrow  you  may  do  it  again ; and  each 
time  it  will  answer  more  readily  to  your  calls. 

But  remember,  that  real  discipline  of  mind  does  not  so  much  consist 
in  now  and  then  making  a great  effort,  as  in  having  the  mind  so 
trained  that  it  Avill  make  constant  efforts.  Gutta  cmat  lapidem^ 
non  vi,  sed  smpe  cmdendo.  If  you  would  liaA^e  the  discipline  anything 
like  perfect,  it  must  be  unremitted : the  mind  must  be  kept  clear  and 
shrewd.  It  is  told  of  our  gifted  but  infatuated  Hamilton,  that,  during 
the  periods  in  Avhich  the  po Avers  of  his  mind  Avere  put  to  the  highest 
and  severest  exercise,  he  regularly  read  Euclid  through  once  a month. 
The  Federalist  Avill  tell  the  rest. 

The  perfection  of  a disciplined  mind  is, — not  to  be  able,  on  some 
great  contingency,  to  rouse  up  its  faculties  and  to  draAV  out  a giant 
strength, — but  to  have  it  always  ready  to  produce  a given  and  an 
equal  quantity  of  results  in  a given  and  equal  time.  This  was  the 
glory  of  the  mind  of  Isaac  YeAvton ; and  the  late  venerated  Porter,  of 
Andover,  could,  in  any  given  hour,  or  day,  or  Aveek,  produce  as 
finished  and  as  ample  results,  as  if  he  should  AA^ait  for  “some  happy 
hours  of  thought.”  He ‘who  trains  his  mind  to  go  by  impulses,  and 
must  Avait  for  them,  Avill  accomplish  but  very  little  during  his  life. 

Tavo  monks  live  near  each  other  at  the  same  time.  They  both 
profess  to  be  students;  only  one,  hoAvever,  does  anything  toward 


20 


COmtmEV  -EPEoiltS  will  ACCOUPtm  MEOB.  ic«. 


Ofe  uses  language  and  lamentations  as  fol 

th..  Ls..s.;."5  w\3r.!;"if  i 

.m„ns  them^  , J £u.l  IZKllfi  £ 1™  iSf 
SfSV.  iTiS  5“  ‘'"  " *' '““ »'  m™ 

m active  life  will  judge  ^erj  accurately  as  to  the  manner  in  which  vou 
il!  to  act  in  such  and  such  circumstances;  but  though 

n these  respects,  their  conclusions  are  accurate,  yet  they  see  not  the 
motives  of  action,  and  look  not  so  deeply  into  the  soul,  as^the  accurate 
student.  Let  a man  m active  life  undertake  to  probe  the  consicence  of 
an  audience;  he  may  have  this  and  that  fact,  but  can  he  do  it  as  effect 
ually  as  he  who  hp  read  human  nature,  and  pondered  over  it  in  all  its 
recesses  and  windings,  in  his  study?  Few  men  ever  lived  who  moved 

Cnaf  ‘nature « ^an"  Edwards.  But  did  he  not  understand 

uman  nature.  Can  any  one  read  his  writings,  and  doubt  for  a 

When'ln  accurately  what  the  nature  of  man  is* 

when  such  a mind  pours  out  its  strength  upon  the  world,  it  does  not 
make  mistakes  as  to  the  princijiles  of  action.  He  might  mistake  in 

matters  but  a surgeon  never  dissected  the  body  with  more  accuracv 

knlf I*  ^ tr^^ition  that  Sr% 
knew  not  his  own  cows;  but  m the  world  of  active,  driving,  bargain- 
making  men,  you  will  never  find  one  who  understands  humln  nftoe  ' 
as  well  as  he  did.  And  not  he  alone ; but  this  is  characteristic  of  all 
who  are  real  students  They  work  upon  the  deep  principles  of  human 
nature ; those  principles  which  are  altered  neither  by  time,  nor  fashion 


Mli^-IcnowledqR 


CH.  I.] 


2i 


nor  outward  circumstances.  This  is  one  reason  why  an  educated  mind 
will  often  send  the  arrow  through  the  heart,  while  the  uneducated 
man  only  twangs  nis  bow.  He  makes  more  noise,  but  produces  no 
execution.  I doubt  not  that  many  will  smile  at  the  idea,  that  the 
hara  student  understands  mankind;  but  you  might  as  well  smile  at 
the  philosoptier,  who,  while  he  was  managing  the  electricity  in  the  thun- 
der-cloud, could  not  tell  what  outward  shapes  the  cloud  might,  in  the 
mean  time,  assume,  or  whether  it  moved  fast  or  slow. 

SelJ- -knowledge  is  another  important  end  of  study.  There  are  some 
men  who  have  raised  themselves  to  high  stations,  and  maintained 
them,  without  a long  course  of  mental  discipline.  Eoger  Sherman 
thus  rose  from  the  bench  of  a shoemaker,  tiU  the  eyes  of  a nation  gazed 
on  him  iu  admiration.  But  most  are  pedants,  and  self-conceited,  un- 
less they  have  accurately  and  repeatedly  measured  themselves  by 
others.  It  is  of  great  importance  that  you  know  what  you  cannot  do, 
as  well  as  what  you  can  do.  For  this  reason,  with  all  the  temptations 
and  dangers  attending  a public  education,  I am  satisfied  it  is  much  to 
be  preferred  to  a private  one.  The  wisest  period  in  the  whole  of  man’s 
existence,  is  just  when  he  has  entered  college.  Aud  why?  Simply 
because  the  youth  has  not  yet  had  the  opportunity  of  measuring  his 
attainments  and  capacity  with  that  of  his  fello^vs.  It  is  not  merely 
that  you  sharpen  the  intellect,  and  add  a keenness  to  the  mind  by 
contact  with  other  minds,  but  you  strengthen  it  by  the  contact,  and 
you  learn  to  be  modest  in  regard  to  your  own  powers.  You  will  see 
many  with  intellects  of  a high  order,  and  with  attainments  far  beyond 
anything  which  you  have  dared  call  your  own.  There  must  be  some  | 
radical  defect  in  that  man’s  nature,  who  can  be  associated  in  study  for) 
years  with  those  who  are  severe  students,  S,nd  at  the  end  of  thei, 
period  feel  that  he  is  a very  wise  or  a very  great  man.  He  has  then 
but  just  stepped  upon  the  threshold  of  learning,  and  but  just  looked 
out  upon  the  field  of  knowledge  and  improvement,  which  is  as  bound- 
less as  the  creation  of  God.  The  mouse,  which  thought  his  chest  was 
all  the  world,  was  astonished  when  he  stood  upon  the  till  and  looked 
out,  to  see  what  a great  world  lay  beyond  him.  But  what  is  the 
reason  why  a man  must  know  himself  exactly  ? What  if  he  does  over- 
estimate himself?  I answer,  if  he  presents  a draft  greater  than  his 
deposits,  it  will  certainly  be  protested.  There  is  so  much  vanity  in  the 
heart  of  every  man,  that  he  will  not  allow  any  one  to  claim  more  than 
his  merits  absolutely  compel  him  to  allow ; so  that  if  you  place  yourself 
on  the  list  of  those  who  over-estimate  their  own  attainments  or  worth, 
you  injure  your  usefulness  and  destroy  your  happiness.  The  modest 
man  may,  and  wiU,  draw  vastly  harder  upon  the  sympathy  and  good- 


OMECf  OF  8TCDY. 


[CH.  t 


will  of  mankind  than  the  forward  man,  with  the  same  attainments, 
will  be  allowed  to  do.  Modesty,  to  rest  upon  any  fixed,  stable  foun- 
dation, must  rest  upon  an  accurate  knowledge  of  yourself.  This  will 
be  the  result  of  study.  The  philosopher  whose  fame  was  filling  all 
Europe,  was  so  modest  and  retiring,  that  his  good  landlady  one  day 
mourned  over  him,  and  lamented  that  ‘ ‘ the  poor  soul  could  never  make 
anything  more  than  philosopher  after  all!” 

We  p.re  in  too  great  danger  of  neglecting  the  memory.  It  is  too 
valuable  to  be  neglected,  for  by  it  wonders  are  sometimes  accomplished. 
He  who  has  a memory  that  can  seize  with  an  iron  grasp,  and  retain 
what  he  reads  (the  ideas  simply,  without  the  language)  and  a judgment 
to  compare  and  balance,  will  scarcely  fail  of  being  distinguished. 
Many  are  afraid  of  strengthening  the  memory,  lest  it  should  destroy 
their  inducement  and  power  to  originate  ideas — lest  the  light  should 
be  altogether  borrowed  light.  The  danger  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be 
very  great:  especially  since  I have  noticed,  that  those  who  are  so 
fearful  of  employing  this  faculty  are  by  no  means  to  be  envied  for 
their  originality.  Why  has  that  mass  of  thought,  observation,  and 
experience,  embodied  in  books  by  the  multitudes  of  minds  which  have 
gone  before  us,  been  gathered,  if  not  that  we  may  use  it,  and  stand  on 
high  ground,  and  push  our  way  still  farther  into  the  boundaries  and 
regions  of  knowledge?  Besides,  in  a world  so  dark  as  ours,  it  is  de- 
lightful to  see  a planet  rising  before  us,  even  though  she  sheds  no  hght 
but  borrowed.  And  after  all,  the  exact  amount  of  original  thought 
which  passes  through  any  one  mind,  is  probably  much  less  than  is 
frequently  imagined.  Who  does  not  know  what  a delightful  freshness 
there  is  in  the  reading  of  youth!  The  world  is  new  to  him.  He 
treads  on  ground  new  and  enchanting.  I have  frequently  heard  men, 
in  maturer  years,  wish  that  they  could  now  sit  down  and  find  the  same 
■ freshness  in  a book,  which  they  did  when  young.  Why  do  they  not? 
Because  a new  book,  now,  is  not  new.  They  have  seen  the  same  ideas, 
lor  the  shades  of  them,  many  times  before;  and  every  book  takes  away 
from  the  originality  of  that  which  is  to  follow  it.  The  man  who 
declared  that  the  only  two  new  books  in  the  world  were  the  Bible  and 
Euclid,  was  not  so  far  out  of  the  way  as  would  at  first  seem.  If, 
then,  there  is  not  so  much  of  originality  in  men  and  in  books  as  you  at 
first  suppose,  it  follows,  that  memory  is  the  grand  instrument  of  con- 
veying knowledge  from  one  man  to  another.  Its  cultivation  is  of  the 
highest  importance.  I mention  it  here,  not  now  to  direct  how  to 
cmtivate  it,  but  to  state  its  immense  value. 

You  will  see,  from  what  I have  said,  that  the  object  of  study  is  to 
di^ovpUne  the  mmd  in  all  its  parts to  show  it  where  to  find  tools,  and 


CH.  I.] 


TEDIOUSNESS  OF  STUDY. 


23 


how  to  use  them.  The  exact  amount  of  knowledge  which  is  at  any  one 
time  in  the  mind  of  the  student,  is  not,  and  need  not  be,  great.  Like 
a good  pump,  you  could  soon  exhaust  it,  were  it  not  that  it  reaches  an 
inexhaustible  well  beneath,  and  has  all  the  apparatus  for  filling  itself 
as  fast  as  emptied.  If  the  knowledge  which  he  now  possesses  shall 
evaporate,  it  will,  like  the  vapors  which  rise  from  the  ocean,  again 
return  to  the  diligent  student,  by  some  other  channels.  It  is  thought 
by  some,  however,  that  no  item  of  knowledge,  and  not  a single  idea 
which  is  once  formed  in  the  mind,  can  ever  be  lost.  It  may  be  for- 
gotten to-day,  but  it  will  come  again  to  the  notice  of  the  mind  in  the 
course  of  the  unending  progress  which  is  yet  to  be  made  by  the  human 
soul.  How  important  that  the  knowledge  which  we  acquire,  and  the 
thoughts  which  occupy  our  minds,  be  such,  that,  come  when  they 
may,  we  shall  recognize  them  as  pleasant  companions  and  worthy 
friends ! The  immortahty  of  light  wliich  awaits  the  good,  is  to  be  one 
of  thought,  of  review,  and  of  self-communion ; and  the  night  of  ages 
which  shall  settle  down  upon  the  wicked,  wih  not  be  other  than  sleep- 
less. 

It  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  the  youth  to  feel,  as  he  is  sent 
away  from  home,  and  confined  down  to  books,  that  it  is  really  a hard 
way  to  obtain  an  education.  He  thinks  of  the  brooks,  the  groves,  or 
the  hiUs  and  ponds  near  his  home ; of  his  skates,  his  gun,  or  his  fishing 
tackle,  or  of  the  social  circle  around  his  father’s  fireside,  and  sighs, 
that  he  must  be  exiled  from  all  these,  and  shut  up  in  his  naked  room, 
among  strangers,  and  there  must  unceasingly  pore  over  his  books.  It 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  he  feels  so;  but  let  him  reflect,  that 
this  is  the  time  to  form  habits,  and  to  begin  a course  of  mental  disci- 
pline, which,  in  a few  years,  will  raise  him  high  in  the  esteem,  the 
respect  and  the  honors  of  his  fellow-men.  Every  distinguished  man 
has  trodden  the  same  path.  There  is  no  other  road  to  knowledge,  to 
improvement,  to  distinction.  If  the  voice  of  experience  could  come  to 
your  ear,  and  if  you  could  see  the  agony  of  heart  which  those  feel, 
who  once  had  your  opportunities,  but  misimproved  them,  you  w’ould 
be  astonished  to  see  the  real  value  of  your  situation.  All  who  have 
passed  through  academic  or  collegiate  life,  know  how  very  irksome 
that  life  is ; and  the  reason  is,  it  is  so  hard  for  the  mind  to  be  broken 
in,  and  subdued  by  the  discipline  of  the  situation : it  is  like  taking  the 
half-grown  lion,  and  putting  him  in  the  iron  cage,  and  then  teaching 
him  how  to  obey  his  master,  and,  of  course,  how  to  subdue  himself. 
But  this  very  discipline  is  the  only  thing  which  can  bring  the  mind 
under  proper  subjection,  and  fit  it  to  become  obedient  to  yourself.  I 
hop,  in  the  chapters  which  are  to  follow,  to  mark  out  the  road  so 


24 


PEMMANENGY  OF  HABITS. 


[CH.  II. 


f ^“1!^  **  ““J"®  pleasant  to  travel,  and,  at 

“ recollections,  and 


II. 

HABITS. 

The  whole  character  may  be  said  to  be  comprehended  in  the  term 

ot  habits.  Suppose  you  were  compelled  to  wear  an  iron  collar  about 
your  neck  through  life,  or  a chain  upon  your  ankle;  would  it  not  be  a 
burden  every  day  and  hour  of  your  existence?  You  rise  in  the  morn- 
ing  a prisoner  to  your  chain;  you  lie  down  at  night,  weary  with  the 

no ’^iTk’inTl/nff  ^ ^bat  there  is 

no  shaking  it  off.  But  even  this  would  be  no  more  intolerable  to  bear 

shake™ofF  ” habits  of  men;  nor  would  it  be  more  dilflcult  to  be 

Habits  are  easily  formed— especially  such  as  are  had;  and  what  to- 
cay  seems  to  be  a small  affair,  will  soon  become  fixed,  and  hold  you 
with  the  strength  of  a cable.  That  same  cable,  you  will  recollect  is 
formed  by  spinning  and  twisting  one  thread  at  a time;  but,  when  once 
completed  the  proudest  ship  turns  her  head  toward  it,  and  acknowledo-es 
ner  subjection  to  its  power.  ^ 

Habits  of  some  kind  will  be  formed  by  every  student.  He  will  have 
a particular  couree  in  which  his  time,  his  employments,  his  thoimhts 
and  feeling,  will  run.  Good  or  bad,  these  habits  soon  become  a part 
of  himselt,  and  a kind  of  second  nature.  Who  does  not  know,  that 
the  old  man,  who  has  occupied  a particular  corner  of  the  old  fire-place 
in  the  old  house  for  sixty  years,  may  be  rendered  wretched  by  a 
^ange . Who  has  not  read  of  the  release  of  the  aged  prisoner  of  the 
Bastile,  who  entreated  that  he  might  again  return  to  his  gloomy 
dungeon,  because  his  habits,  there  formed,  were  so  strong,  that  his 
nature  threatened  to  sink  under  the  attempt  to  break  them  up?  You 
will  probably  find  no  man  of  forty,  who  has  not  habits  which  he  la- 
ments,  which  mar  his  usefulness,  but  which  are  so  interwoven  with  his 
very  being,  that  he  cannot  break  through  them.  At  least  he  lias  not 
the  courage  to  try.  I am  expecting  you  will  form  habits.  Indeed  1 
wish  you  to  do  so.  He  must  be  a poor  character,  indeed,  who  lives ’so 
extempore  as  not  to  have  habits  of  his  own.  But  what  I wish  is  tha* 


HABITS  HASILT  HOBMED. 


CEt.  ir.] 


se 


you  form  those  habits  which  are  correct^  and  such  as  will  every  day 
and  hour  add  to  your  happiness  and  usefulness.  If  a man  were  to  be 
told  that  he  must  use  the  ax,  which  he  now  selects,  through  life, 
would  he  not  be  careful  in  selecting  one  of  the  right  proportions  and 
temper?  If  told  that  he  must  wear  the  same  clothing  through  life, 
would  he  not  be  anxious  as  to  the  quality  and  kind?  But  these,  in 
the  cases  supposed,  would  be  of  no  more  importance  than  is  the  selec- 
tion of  habits  in  which  the  soul  shall  act.  You  might  as  well  place  the 
body  in  a strait-jacket,  and  expect  it  to  perform,  with  ease,  and  com- 
fort, and  promptness,  the  various  duties  of  the  body,  as  to  throw  the 
soul  into  the  habits  of  some  men,  and  then  expect  it  will  accomplish 
anything  great  or  good. 

Do  not  fear  to  undertake  to  form  any  habit  which  is  desirable ; for 
it  can  be  formed,  and  that  with  more  ease  than  you  may  at  first  sup- 
pose. Let  the  same  thing ^ or  the  same  duty^  i^eturn  at  the  same  time 
every  day^  and  it  will  soon  become  pleasant.  Xo  matter  if  it  be  irksome 
at  first;  but  how  irksome  soever  it  may  be,  only  let  it  return  period- 
ically, every  day,  and  that  without  any  interruption  for  a time,  and  it 
will  become  a positive  pleasure.  In  this  way  all  our  habits  are  formed. 
The  student  who  can  with  ease  now  sit  down,  and  hold  his  mind  down 
to  his  studies  nine  or  ten  hours  a day,  would  find  the  laborer,  or  the 
man  accustomed  to  active  habits,  sinking  under  it,  should  he  attempt 
to  do  the  same  thing.  I have  seen  a man  sit  down  at  the  table  spread 
with  luxury,  and  eat  his  sailor’s  biscuit  with  relish,  and  without  a desire 
for  any  other  food.  His  health  had  compelled  him  thus  to  live  till  it 
become  a pleasant  habit  of  diet.  Previous  to  this,  however,  he  had 
been  rather  noted  for  being  an  epicure.  “I  once  attended  a prisoner,” 
says  an  excellent  man,  “of  some  distinction,  in  one  of  the  prisons  of 
the  metrophs,  ill  of  a typhus  fever,  whose  apartments  were  gloomy 
in  the  extreme,  surrounded  with  horrors:  yet  this  prisoner  assured  me 
afterward,  that,  upon  his  release,  he  quitted  them  with  a degree  of 
reluctance : custom  had  reconciled  him  to  the  twilight  admitted  through 
the  thick-barred  gate,  to  the  filthy  spots  and  patches  of  his  plastered 
walls,  to  the  hardness  of  his  bed,  and  even  to  confinement.” 

I shall  specify  habits  which,  in  my  view,  are  very  desirable  to  the 
student,  and,  at  the  same  time,  endeavor  to  give  specific  directions 
how  to  form  them. 

1.  Have  a plan  laid  beforehand  for  every,  day. 

These  plans  ought  to  be  maturely  formed  the  evening  previous,  and 
on  rising  in  the  morniug,  again  looked  at,  and  immediately  entered 
upon.  It  is  astonishing  how  much  more  we  may  accomphsh  in  a single 
day  (and  what  of  else  is  life  made  up  ?)  by  having  the  plan  previously 


2G 


LAY  TOtiB  PL  ALTS  PEFOPPHANP. 


[cs.  n. 


o f ^ everytlimg.  This  morning  a man  was  digging 

l ati  thiougli  a deep  snowbank.  It  was  almost  insupportably  cold 
and  be  seemed  to  make  but  little  headway,  though  he  worked  as  if 
upon  a wager.  At  length,  getting  out  of  breath,  he  Ind 

wkhlf  o^P  shovel,  then  marked  out  the 

width  of  each  shovel  full,  and  consequently  the  amount  of  snow  at 
each  throw  of  the  shovel.  In  fifteen  minutes  he  had  done  more,  and 
with  greater  ease  and  neatness,  than  in  the  thirty  minutes  previous, 
without  a plan.  It  is  of  little  consequence  by  what  we 
illlustrate,  if  we  make  a thing  clear,  and  impress  it  upon  the  mind  I 
liave  found,  in  my  own  experience,  as  much  difference  in  the  labors  of 
two  dap  when  working  with  or  without  a plan,  as,  at  least,  one  half, 
have^done^^^^^  satisfaction,  in  the  latter  case,  of  knowing  what  I 

Experienp  will  tell  any  man,  that  he  is  most  successful  in  his  own 
pursuits,  when  he  is  most  careful  as  to  his  method.  A man  of  mv 
acquaintance  has  a small  slate,  which  hangs  at  his  study-table.  On 
that  he  generally  finds,  m the  morning,  his  work  for  the  day  written 
down;  and  in  the  evening  he  reviews  it,  sees  if  he  has  omitted  anv- 
thing,  and  if  so,  chides  himself  that  all  is  not  done.  To  make  this 
clear,  I copy  here  what  was  found  on  his  slate  for  one  day,  as  I saw  it 
this  morning: — 

a.  Horse,  errands,  and  dig  paths. 

h.  Carry  my  child  to  school,  and  pay  postage-  bill 

c.  Write  from  9 till  dinner  [at  1 o’clock]. 

d.  'Write  to  C.,  inviting  him— also  to  I.  at  JST.  H. 

e.  Examine  the  use  of  the  word  orgizesthe  in  Ephesians  iv.  26. 

/.  Yisit  Mr.  M.  sick,  also  the  two  families  in  Maple  street 

g.  Get  some  straw  for  horse  wherever  it  can  be  purchased. 

A.  Prepare  and  preach  this  evening. 

wantf  sixth  vol.  of  B.  [to  see  if  anything  is  there  which  I 

L Last,  not  least,  to  fix  the  pump  [so  that  it  will  not  freeze  up] 

It,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  he  finds  these  items  all  accomplished, 
pd  thp  m such  a .way  as  to  satisfy  conscience,  he  feels  that  the  day 
has  not  been  lost.  Sometimes  he  finds  he  has  misjudged,  and  has 
marked  out  more  than  he  can  do;  sometimes  he  is  hindered  by  unex- 
pected interruptions,  and  therefore  cannot  do  all,  or  even  half,  he 
calculat^  to  do.  These  must  be  all  weighed  every  night  at  the  re- 
view. Be  sure  and  review  every  night,  and  when  you  have  balanced 
the  account  with  conscience,  lay  out  what  you  will  do  for  the 
next  day. 


CH.  II.] 


A STUDENTS  DAY. 


27 


Such  a system  will  not  make  a noisy,  blustering  character.  The 
river  that  rolls  a heavy  burden  of  water  to  the  ocean,  is  the  stream 
which  keeps  the  channel,  and  is  noiseless  in  its  course.  There  is  a 
prescribed  routine  of  duties  marked  out  by  your  teachers.  These,  of 
course,  will  come  in  your  every-day  plans ; but,  in  addition  to  these, 
you  ought  to  do  something  by  way  of  acquiring  or  retaining  informa- 
tion, or  something  to  add  to  the  happiness  of  your  friends  or  of  jour 
companions.  Let  me  suppose  you  mark  out  your  plan  for  to-morrow, 
thus : — 

1.  Walk  to  the  pond,  1-J  mile,  immediately  after  breakfast. 

2.  Lesson  and  recitation. 

3.  Write  to  my  mother,  acknowledging  her  letter  and  bundle. 

4.  Eeview,  and  see  if  I can  read  the  6th  Eclogue  of  Yirgil  without 
looking  into  the  Dictionary  or  Grammar.  (Kegular  course  of  review.) 

5.  Lesson  and  recitation.  Walk  till  tea. 

6.  See  if  I can  go  through  the  24th  proposition  of  Euclid,  1st  B.,  at 
once.  (Kegular  review.) 

7.  Visit  Smith’s  room,  and  explain  the  remark  which  I made  to- 
day, and  at  which  he  seemed  hurt. 

8.  Lesson  for  the  morning,  etc. 

9.  Kote  the  three  facts  respecting  Demosthenes  in  my  common- 
place book. 

10.  Talk  over  the  question  for  dispute  in  the  Society  with  my  chum. 

11.  Read  the  new  magazine  which  mother  has  just  sent  me. 

At  first  you  will  feel  discouraged  in  not  being  able  to  do  as  much 
work  as  you  mark  out.  But  you  will  do  more  and  more,  from  day  to 
day,  as  you  proceed ; and  you  will  soon  be  astonished  at  seeing  how 
much  can  be  accomplished.  If  you  choose,  you  can  have  a book  in- 
stead of  a slate,  which  will  be  also  a kind  of  journal  of  your  life,  full 
of  interesting  memoranda. 

2.  Acquire  the  habit  of  untiring  industry. 

Should  you  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  suppose  you  are  a genius,  and 
that  ‘ ‘ things  will  come  to  you,  ’ ’ it  would  be  well  to  undeceive  your- 
self as  soon  as  possible.  Make  up  your  mind  that  industry  must  be 
the  price  of  all  you  obtain,  and  at  once  begin  to  pay  down.  “Dili-, 
gence  in  employments  of  less  consequence  is  the  most  successful  intro- : 
duction  to  greater  enterprises.”  It  is  a matter  of  unaffected  amaze- 
ment to  see  what  industry  alone  will  accomplish.  We  are  astonished 
at  the  volumes  which  the  men  of  former  ages  used  to  write.  But  the 
term  industry  is  the  key  to  the  whole  secret.  ‘ ‘ He  that  shall  walk 
with  vigor  three  hours  a day,  will  pass  in  seven  years  a space  equal  to 
the  circumference  of  the  globe.”  There  is  no  state  so  bad  for  the 


28 


UNTIRING  INDUSTRY. 


[cn.  II. 


student  as  idleness,  and  no  habit  so  pernicious.  And  yet  none  is  so 
easily  acquired,  or  so  difficult  to  be  thrown  off.  The  idle  man  soon 
grows  torpid,  and  becomes  the  Indian  in  his  feelings,  insensibly  adopt- 
ing their  maxim — “It  is  better  to  walk  than  to  run,  and  better  to  stand 
still  than  to  walk,  and  better  to  sit  than  to  stand,  and  better  to  lie 
than  to  sit.”  Probably  the  man  who  deserves  the  most  of  pity,  is  he 
who  is  most  idle;  for  as  “there  are  said  to  be  pleasures  in  madness 
known  only  to  madmen,  there  are  certain  miseries  in  idleness  which 
only  the  idle  can  conceive.”  I am  aware  that  many  are  exceedingly 
liisy.,  who  are  not  industrious.  For  it  very  frequently  happens,  that 
he  who  is  most  hurried  and  bustling,  is  very  far  from  being  industrious. 
A shrewd  man  can  easily  discover  the  difference.  “He  that  neglects 
his  known  duty,  and  real  employment,  naturally  endeavors  to  crowd 
his  mind  with  something  that  may  bar  out  the  remembrance  of  his 
own  folly,  and  does  anything  but  what  he  ought  to  do,  with  eager 
diligence,  that  he  may  keep  himself  in  his  own  favor.  ” 

It  is  perfectly  clear  that  he  who  is  industrious  has  really  the  most  of; 
leisure;  for  his  time  is  marked  out  into  distinct  portions,  to  each  .of. 
which  something  is  assigned;  and  when  the  thing  is  done,  the  man  is  at 
leisure ; but  a dead  calm  settles  over  him  who  lives  an  idle  life.  Better 
that  the  waters  be  straitened,  and  burst  over  their  banks,  than  that ' 
they  be  too  sluggish  to  move  at  all.  Who  would  not  prefer  to  put 
to  sea,  even  in  a storm,  and  in  a gale  hurry  over  the  waters,  rather 
than  lie  for  weeks  becalmed?  It  is  said,  that  when  Scanderbeg,  prince 
of  Epirus,  was  dead,  the  Turks  wished  to  get  his  bones,  that  each  one  : 
might  wear  a piece  near  his  heart,  and  thus  obtain  some  part  of  that  ( 
courage  which  he  had  while  living,  and  which  they  had  too  often  ex*  i 
perienced  in  battle.  What  a blessing,  if  the  idle  might  obtain  some  ‘ 
such  charm,  that  would  rouse  them  up  to  habits  of  industry!  Seneca  ‘ 
assures  his  friend,  in  a letter,  that  there  “was  not  a day  in  which  he  ; 
did  not  either  Avrite  something,  or  read  and  epitomize  some  good  au- 
thor.”  So  universal  has  the  opinion  of  men  been  on  the  point,  that, 
in  order  to  excel,  you  must  be  industrious,  that  idlers  have  received 
the  just  appellation  of  “fools  at  large,”  You  would  be  surprised  to 
know  how  many  hours  slip  away  from  the  man  who  is  not  systematic- 
ally industrious.  “Such  was  his  unwearied  assiduity  and  diligence, 
that  he  seemed  to  pray  constantly,  to  preach  constantly,  to  catechise 
constantly,  and  to  visit  the  sick,  exhorting  from  house  to  hpuse,  to  < 
teach  as  much  in  the  schools,  and  spend  as  much  time  with  the  students  , 
and  young  men,  in  fitting  them  for  the  ministry,  as  if  he  had  been " 
sequestrate  from  all  the  world  besides,  and  yet,  withal,  to  write  asi 
much  as  if  he  had  been  constantly  shut  up  in  his  study.  ” • 


CH.  II.] 


EXAMPLE  OF  LUTHER. 


29 


It  js  easy  for  the  student  to  form  good  plans  -of  study  and  of  daily 
habits,  and  to  draw  them  out  on  paper,  all  perfected.  But  the  ditfi- 
culty  is,  they  are  found  nowhere  but  on  paper ; and  because  you  cannot 
at  once  reach  l^hem,  you  sit  down  and  give  up  an  untiring  industry. 
It  was  a matter  of  astonishment  to  Europe,  that  Luther,  amid  all  his 
travels  and  active  labors,  could  present  a very  perfect  translation  of 
the  whole  Bible.  But  a single  word  explains  it  all.  He  had  a rigid 
system  of  doing  something  every  day.  ''WuUo  dies^’’^  says  he,  in 
answer  to  the  question  how  he  did  it — ''nulla  dies  sine  versuf'^  and  this 
soon  orougnt  him  to  the  close  of  the  whole  Bible. 

I have  never  known  a man  whose  habits  of  every-day  industry  were 
so  good  as  those  of  Jeremiah  Evarts.  During  years  of  close  observa- 
tion in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  I never  saw  a day  pass  without  his 
accomphshing  more  than  he  expected ; and  so  regular  was  he  in  all  his 
habits,  that  I knew  to  a moment  when  I should  find  him  with  his  pen, 
and  when  with  his  tooth-brush  in  his  hand ; and  so  methodical  and 
thorough,  that,  though  his  papers  filled  many  shelves,  when  closely 
tied  up,  there  was  not  a paper  among  all  his  letters,  correspondence, 
editorial  matter,  and  the  like,  which  was  not  labeled  and  in  its  place, 
and  upon  which  he  could  not  lay  his  hand  in  a moment.  I never  knew 
him  search  for  a paper ; it  was  always  in  its  place.  I have  never  yet 
met  with  the  man  whose  industry  was  so  great,  or  who  wduld  accom- 
plish so  much  in  a given  time. 

“Pray,  of  what  did  your  brother  die?”  said  the  Marquis  Spinola  to 
Sir  Horace  Vere.  “He  died,  sir,”  replied  he,  “of  having  nothing  to 
do.”  “Alas,  sir,”  said  Spinola,  “that  is  enough  to  kill  any  general  of 
us  all.” 

Demosthenes,  as  is  well  known,  copied  Thucydides’  History  eight 
times  with  his  own  hand,  merely  to  make  himself  familiar  with  the 
style  of  that  great  man. 

There  are  two  proverbs,  one  among  the  Turks,  and  the  other  among 
the  Spaniards,  both  of  which  contain  much  that  is  true.  “A  busy 
man  is  troubled  with  but  one  devil,  but  the  idle  man  with  a thousand.  ’ ’ 
“Men  are  usually  tempted  by  the  devil,  but  the  idle  man  positively 
tempts  the  devil.”  How  much  corrupting  company,  how  many 
temptations  to  do  wrong,  how  many  seasons  of  danger  to  your  char- 
acter, and  danger  to  the  peace  of  your  friends,  would  you  escape,  by 
forming  the  habit  of  being  decidedly  industrious  every  day ! 

3.  Cultivate  jper sever anee. 

By  perseverance,  I mean  a steadfastness  in  pursuing  the  same  study, 
and  studying  and  carrying  out  the  same  plans  from  week  to  week. 
Some  will  read  or  hear  of  a plan  which  somebody  has  pursued  with 


30 


EFFECTS  OF  INDECISION. 


[CH.  II, 


great  success,  and  at  once  conclude  that  they  will  do  so.  The  plan 
will  be  adopted  without  consideration,  then  talked  about  as  a line 
affair,  and  in  a few  days  thrown  aside  for  something  else.  Such  a 
great  man  did  this,  or  did  that,  and  I will  do  so,  is  the  feeling ; but  as 
soon  as  it  becomes  irksome,  as  any  new  habit  will  in  a short  time,  it  is 
laid  aside.  I once  knew  a man,  a student,  Avho  somewhere  read  of  a 
great  man  who  wrote  over  his  door,  '' Duin  loquimor  tew^us  fngit;^^ 
and  immediately  he  had  it  in  staring  capitals  over  his  door.  Again, 
he  read  that  a very  learned  man  used  to  admire  Blackstone ; at  once  lie 
drops  all,  and  purchases  Blackstone 's  Commentaries.  These  he  began 
to  read  with  great  eagerness ; but,  happening  to  hear  that  Oliver  Ells- 
worth was  in  the  habit  of  getting  most  of  his  information  from  con-  | 
versation  (a  fact  which  I doubt),  he  was  for  dropping  Blackstone,  and 
going  from  room  to  room,  to  gather  information  by  conversation!  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  that  a college  full  of  such  students,  all  con-  , 
densed  into  one,  would  not  make  a single  real  student.  ‘ ‘ The  man  who 
is  perpetually  hesitating  which  of  two  things  he  will  do  first,  will  do 
neither.  The  man  who  resolves,  but  suffers  his  resolution  to  be 
changed  by  the  first  counter-suggestion  of  a friend,  who  fluctuates 
from  opinion  to  opinion,  from  plan  to  plan,  and  veers  like  a weather-  ( 
cock  to  every  point  of  the  compass,  with  every  breath  of  caprice  that 
blows,  can  never  accomplish  anything  great  or  useful.  Instead  of 
being  progressive  in  anything,  he  will  be  at  best  stationary,  and  more  ' 
probably  retrograde  in  all.  It  is  only  the  man  who  carries  into  his  | 
pursuits  that  great  quality  which  Lucan  ascribes  to  Caesar — nescia 
virtus  stare  loco — who  first  consults  wisely,  then  resolves  firmly,  and 
then  executes  his  purpose  with  inflexible  peseverance,  undismayed 
by  those  petty  difficulties  which  daunt  a weaker  spirit — that  can  ad- 
vance to  eminence  in  any  line.  Let  us  take,  by  way  of  illustration, 
the  case  of  a student.  He  commences  the  study  of  the  dead  languages: 
presently  comes  a friend,  who  teUs  him  he  is  wasting  his  time,  and  = 
that,  instead  of  obsolete  words,  he  had  much  better  employ  himself  in  ; 
acquiring  new  ideas.  He  changes  his  plan,  and  sets  to  work  at  the 
mathematics.  Then  comes  another  friend,  who  asks  him,  with  a , 
grave  and  sapient  face,  whether  he  intends  to  become  a professor  in  a 
college;  because,  if  he  does  not,  he  is  misemploying  his  time;  and 
that,  for  the  business  of  life,  common  mathematics  is  quite  enough  of  j 
the  mathematics.  He  throws  up  his  Euclid,  and  addresses  himself  to  ^ 
some  other  study,  which,  in  its  turn,  is  again  relinquished  on  some 
equally  wise  suggestion;  and  thus  life  is  spent  in  changing  his  plans.  ; 
You  cannot  but  perceive  the  folly  of  this  course;  and  the  worst  effect 
of  it  is,  the  fixing  on  your  mind  a habit  of  indecision,  sufficient  of  it  ■ 


CH.  II.] 


EFFECTS  OF  FERSBVEBANGE. 


31 


self  to  blast  the  fairest  prospects.  ISTo;  take  your  course  wisely,  but 
firmly ; and,  having  taken  it,  hold  upon  it  with  heroic  resolution,  and 
the  Alps  and  Pyrenees  will  sink  before  you.  The  whole  empire  of 
learning  will  be  at  your  feet,  while  those  who  set  out  with  you,  but 
stopped  to  change  their  plans,  are  yet  employed  in  the  very  profitable 
business  of  changing  their  plans.  Let  your  motto  be,  Persemrando 
vinces.  Practice  upon  it,  and  you  will  be  convinced  of  its  value  by 
the  distinguished  eminence  to  which  it  will  conduct  you.”* 

We  are  in  danger  of  ruining  our  promising  plans,  in  themselves  very 

food,-  by  the  habit  of  putting  off  till  to-morrow  what  may  be  done  to- 
ay.  That  letter  may  be  answered  to-morrow;  that  request  of  my 
friend  may  be  attended  to  to-morrow,  and  he  will  be  no  loser.  True ; 
but  you  are  the  loser;  for  the  yielding  to  one  such  temptation,  is  the 
signal  to  the  yielding  up  the  whole  citadel  to  the  enemy.  That  note 
and  that  valuable  fact  may  be  recorded  in  my  common-place  book  to- 
morrow. True ; but  every  such  indulgence  is  a heavy  loss  to  you.  Every 
hour  should  be  perseveringly  filled  up.  But  this  is  not  all.  It  is  not 
sufficient  to  take  for  your  motto,  with  the  immortal  Grotius,  '' Hora 
but  let  it  be  filled  up  according  to  some  plan.  One  day  filled 
up  according  to  a previous  plan,  is  worth  more  than  a week  filled  up, 
but  without  any  plan. 

It  is  astonishing  to  see  with  what  perseverance  and  inflexibility  of 
purpose  those  men  have  pursued  the  object,  the  pursuit  and  attainment 
of  which  constituted  their  greatness.  Charles  XII.  was  frequently  on 
his  horse  for  twenty-four  hours  at  once;  and  thus  he  traversed  most  of 
his  dominions.  His  officers  were  all  tired  out ; consequently,  for  the 
most  part,  he  performed  these  journeys  entirely  alone.  On  one  of 
these  excursions,  his  poor  horse  fell  dead  under  him.  Without  any 
uneasiness,  the  monarch  stripped  the  dead  horse,  and  marched  off  with 
the  saddle,  bridle,  and  pistols  on  his  back.  At  the  next  inn  he  found 
a horse  in  the  stable  to  his  mind,  and  immediately  harnessed  him,  and 
was  just  making  off  when  the  owner  came  out,  and  called  him  to  ac- 
count for  stealing  his  property.  The  monarch  replied,  that  he  took 
the  horse  because  he  was  tired  of  carrying  the  saddle  himself.  This 
not  satisfying  the  owner,  they  drew  swords,  and  would  have  shed 
blood,  royal  or  plebeian,  had  not  the  guard  rode  up  and  informed  the 
owner  that  his  sword  was  raised  against  his  king.  This  was  but  a single 
specimen  of  the  untiring  perseverance  with  which  that  ambitious  man 
carried  out  his  plans.  The  same  perseverance  would  place  almost  any 
student  on  a high  eminence  in  a very  few  years. 


* Wirt. 


33 


IMPORTANCE  OF  PUNGTUALITT. 


[cfl.  it ' 


4.  Cultivate  the  habit  of  N'^nctu^ality. 

There  is  no  man  living  who  might  not  be  a punctual  man ; and  yet  ■’ 
there  are  few  that  are  so,  to  anything  like  the  degree  to  which  they  j 
ought  to  attain.  It  is  vastly  easier  to  be  a httle  late  in  getting  into  i 
the  recitation- room,  and  a little  late  in  doing  everything.  It  is  not  so 
easy  to  be  a prompt,  punctual  character;  but  it  is  a trait  of  inestimable 
value  to  yourself  and  to  the  world.  The  punctual  man  can  do  twice 
as  much,  at  least,  as  another  man,  with  twice  the  ease  and  satisfaction 
to  himself,  and  with  equal  satisfaction  to  others.  The  late  lord  chan- 
cellor of  England,  Henry  Brougham,  while  a kingdom  seemed  to  be  | 
resting  on  his  shoulders ; who  presided  in  the  house  of  lords  arid  the 
court  of  chancery;  who  gave  audience  daily  to  the  barristers,  found 
time  to  write  reviews,  to  be  at  the  head  of  at  least  ten  associations 
which  were  publishing  works  of  useful  knowledge — was  so  punctual 
that,  when  these  associations  met,  he  was  uniformly  there  when  the 
hour  of  meeting  had  arrived,  and  was  in  his  place  in  the  chair. 

We  are  all  so  indolent,  by  nature  and  by  habit,  that  we  feel  it  a , 
luxury  to  find  a man  of  real,  undeviating  punctuality.  We  love,  to  : 
lean  upon  such  a man,  and  we  are  willing  to  purchase  such  a staff  at  1 
almost  any  price.  It  shows,  at  least,  that  he  has  conquered  himself. 

Some  seem  to  be  afraid  of  cherishing  this  habit,  lest  it  border  upon 
a virtue  that  is  vulgar,  and  is  below  the  ambition  of  a great  mind,  or 
the  attention  of  one  who  has  greater  virtues  upon  which  he  may  pre- 
sume. Was  the  mind  of  Blackstone  of  a low  order?  Did  he  cultivate 
punctuality  because  he  had  not  great  traits  of  character  on  which  to 
rely?  Yet,  when  he  was  delivering  even  his  celebrated  lectures,  he 
was  never  known  to  make  his  audience  wait  even  a minute ; and  he 
could  never  be  made  to  think  well  of  any  one  who  was  notoriously 
defective  in  this  virtue.  The  reader  will  be  pleased  with  the  following- 
notice  of  Mr.  Brewer,  afterward  a valuable  minister  of  the  gospel. 
While  a student,  he  was  always  known  to  be  punctual  in  attending  the 
lectures  at  the  tutor’s  house.  The  students  boarded  in  neighboring  ; 
families,  and  at  stated  hours  met  for  recitation.  One  morning,  the 
clock  struck  seven,  and  all  rose  up  for  prayer,  according  to  custom. 
The  tutor,  looking  round,  and  observing  that  Mr.  Brewer  was  absent, 
paused  awhile.  Seeing  him  now  enter  the  room,  he  thus  addressed 
him : — ‘ ‘ Sir,  the  clock  has  struck,  and  we  were  ready  to  begin ; but  as 
you  were  absent,  we  supposed  it  was  too  fast,  and  therefore  waited.” 
The  clock  was  actually  too  fast  by  some  minutes. 

It  is  no  great  virtue  to  be  punctual  in  paying  a considerable  debt, 
though,  even  here,  too  many  fail;  but  it  is  in  the  every  day  and  every- 
hour  occurrences  in  which  we  are  most  apt  to  fail.  ‘ ‘ I am  too  late  now, 


PROCUASTINA  TION. 


33 


0fl.  ir.] 


but  it  is  only  once.  I have  not  been  prompt  in  fulfilling  my  plans  to- 
day; but  it  is  only  ” Such  is  the  language  of  procrastination.  I 
have  myself  ridden  scores  of  miles,  and  been  put  to  inconvenient  ex- 
pense, dnd  a hard  week’s  work  in  writing,  by  the  want  of  punctuality 
in  one  who  failed  only  five  minutes,  and  that  wholly  unnecessarily. 
Be  punctual  in  everything.  If  you  determine  to  rise  at  such  an  hour, 
be  on  the  floor  at  the  moment.  If  you  determine  to  do  so  much  before 
breakfast,  be  sure  to  do  it;  if  to  meet  a society,  or  a circle  of  friends, 
be  there  at  the  moment.  We  are  apt  to  be  tardy  in  attending  meet- 
ings of  societies,  etc.,  especially  if  we  have  anything  to  do.  “There  is.  ^ 
great  dignity  in  being  waited  for,”  said  one  who  was  in  this  habit,  and 
who  had  not  much  of  which  he  need  be  vain,  unless  it  was  this  want 
of  promptness.  A.n  assembly  will  be  glad  to  see  you  after  having 
waited  for  you ; but  they  would  have  been  more  glad  to  see  you  at 
your  post.  When  there  are  two  things  for  you  to  do,  one  of  which 
must  be  done,  and  the  other  is  what  you  very  much  desire  to  do,  be 
sure  and  begin  the  former  first.  For  example,  you  may  very  much 
wish  to  complete  the  sheet  which  you  are  now  writing,  and  for  many 
reasons  you  may  wish  it ; but  you  must  recite  this  evening.  Now, 
the  way  for  you  to  do,  is  now  to  stop  waiting,  and  prepare  for  recita- 
tion, else  you  Avill  write  so  long,  that,  not  only  your  preparation  in 
study  will  be  slighted,  but  you  will  also  be  in  danger  of  not  being 
punctual.  The  want  of  the  observance  of  this  rule  very  frequently 
prevents  our  being  punctual  in  our  duties. 

5.  Be  an  early  riser. 

Few  ever  lived  to  a great  age,  and  fewer  still  ever  became  distin- 
guished, who  were  not  in  the  habit  of  early  rising.  You  rise  late,  and 
of  course  get  aoout  your  business  at  a late  hour,  and  everything  goes 
wrong  all  day.  Franklin  says,  “that  he  wdio  rises  late,  may  trot  all 
day,  and  not  have  overtaken  his  business  at  night.”  Dean  Swift 
avers,  ‘ ‘ that  lie  never  knew  any  man  come  to  greatness  and  eminence 
who  lay  in  bed  of  a morning.” 

I believe  that,  with  other  degeneracies  of  our  day,  history  will  prove 
that  late  rising  is  a prominent  one.  In  the  fourteenth  century,  the 
shops  in  Paris  were  universally  open  at  four  in  the  morning ; noAV,  not 
till  long  after  seven.  I’hen,  the  king  of  France  dined  out  at  eight 
o’clock  in  the  morning,  and  retired  to  his  chamber  at  the  same  hour  in 
the  evening.  In  the  time  of  Henry  YIII.,  seven  in  the  morning  was 
the  fashionable  breakfast  hour — ten  the  dinner  hour.  In  the  time  of 
Ehzabeth,  the  nobility,  fashionables,  and  students,  dined  at  eleven 
o’clock,  and  supped  between  five  and  six  in  the  afternoon. 

Buff  on  gives  us  the  history  of  Pis  writing  in  a few  words.  ‘ ' In  my 


u 


i^ARLY  RlSim. 


[cit.  It 


youth,  I was  very  fond  of  sleep:  it  robbed  me  of  a great  deal  of  my 
time;  but  my  poor  Joseph  (his  servant)  was  of  great  service  in  en-i 
abhng  me  to  overcome  it.  I promised  to  give  Joseph  a crown  every  ^ 
time  that  he  would  make  me  get  up  at  six.  !Next  morning  he  did  not 
fail  to  wake  me  and  to  torment  me ; but  he  only  received  abuse.  The 
next  day  after,  he  did  the  same,  with  no  better  success;  and  I was  i 
obliged  to  confess,  at  noon,  that  I had  lost  my  time.  I told  him  that  ^ 
he  did  not  know  how  to  manage  his  business ; he  ought  to  think  of  my 
promise,  and  not  mind  my  threats.  The  day  following,  he  employed  , 
force;  I begged  for  indulgence— I bid  him  begone— f stormed— but 
Joseph  persisted.  I was  therefore  obhged  to  comply;  and  he  was 
rewarded  every  day  for  the  abuse  which  he  suffered  at  the  moment 
when  I awoke,  by  thanks,  accompanied  with  a crown,  which  he  re- 
ceived about  an  hour  after.  Yes,  2 am  indebted  to  poor  Joseph  for  ten 
or  a dozen  of  the  volumes  of  my  worlcs.  ’ ’ 

Frederick  II.  of  Prussia,  even  after  age  and  infirmities  had  increased 
upon  him,  gave  strict  orders  never  to  be  allowed  to  sleep  later  than 
four  in  the  morning.  Peter  the  Great,  whether  at  work  in  the  docks 
at  London  as  a ship-carpenter,  or  at  the  anvil  as  a blacksmith,  or  on 
the  throne  of  Kussia,  always  arose  before  daylight.  “I  am,”  says  he, 
“for  making  my  life  as  long  as  I can,  and  therefore  sleep  as  little  as  'i 
possible.”  Doddridge  makes  the  following  strildng  and  sensible  re-  i 
marks  on  this  subject: — “I  will  here  record  the  observation,  which  I ^ 
have  found  of  great  use  to  myself,  and  to  which,  I may  say,  that  tlie 
production  of  this  work  (Commentary  on  the  l^ew  Testament),  and  i 
most  of  my  other  writings,  is  owing,  viz.,  that  the  difference  between  ; 
rising  at  five  and  at  seven  o’clock  in  the  morning,  for  the  space  of  i 
forty  years,  supposing  a man  to  go  to  bed  at  the  same  hour  at  night, 
is  nearly  equivalent  to  the  addition  of  ten  years  to  a man’s  life.”  ^ 

In  order  to  rise  early,  I would  earnestly  recommend  an  early  hour  4 
for  retiring.  There  are  many  other  reasons  for  this.  E’either  your  • 
eyes  nor  your  health  are  so  likely  to  be  destroyed.  Nature  seems  to  ; 
have  so  fitted  things,  that  we  ought  to  rest  in  the  early  part  of  the  | 
night.  Dr.  Dwight  used  to  tell  his  students,  “that  one  hour  of  sleep  j 
before  midnight  is  worth  more  than  two  hours  after  that  time.”  Let  ' 
it  be  a rule  with  you,  and  scrupulously  adhered  to,  that  your  light  shall  | 
be  extinguished  by  ten  o’clock  in  the  evening.  You  may  then  rise  at  ■ 
five,  and  have  seven  hours  to  rest,  which  is  about  what  nature  requires. 

But  how  shall  you  form  the  habit  of  getting  up  so  early  ? Suppose 
vou  go  to  bed,  to-night,  at  ten : you  have  been  accustomed  to  sit  up  j 
later : for  an  hour  you  cannot  sleep ; and  when  the  clock  strikes  five,  . 
you  will  be  in  a fine  sleep.  I reply,  that  if  you  ever  hope  to  do  any- 


EABLY  BISim. 


35 


|cH.  II.] 


thing  in  this  world,  the  habit  must  be  formed,  and  the  sooner  it  is  done 
the  better.  If  any  money  could  purchase  the  habit,  no  price  would  be 
too  great.  When  the  writer  commenced  the  practice  in  earnest,  he 
procured  an  old  clock,  at  the  expense  of  about  two  dollars.  (This  may 
be  placed  wherever  you  please.)  He  then  formed  a little  machine 
which  went  by  weight  and  string,  through  the  axle  of  which  were  four 
arms  of  wire,  at  the  ends  of  which  were  as  many  brass  buttons.  As 
the  weight  Avent  down,  these  revolving  buttons  struck  against  a small 
house -bell.  This  set  up  such  a tremendous  ringing,  that  there  Avas  no 
more  sleep.  All  this  Avas  connected  with  the  Avooden  clock,  in  the 
distant  room,  by  means  of  wires.  He  has  had  the  honor  to  instruct 
others  of  his  profession  into  the  mystery,  and  has  had  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  the  dingling  of  other  bells,  which  other  Avooden  clocks  set 
a-ringing.  Some  use  a small  alarm-clock  to  call  them  up,  and  to  Avhich 
they  soon  acquire  a strong  attachment,  Avhich  would  be  stronger  still 
could  it  be  made  to  strike  up  a light  and  bmld  a fire.  By  this,  or  some 
such  process,  you  must  be  regularly  Avaked  at  an  early  hour.  The 
students  in  Yale  and  Amherst  Colleges  have  generally  the  alarm-clock. 
After  you  are  once  aAvaked,  be  sure  to  use  the  first  consciousness  in 
getting  upon  the  floor.  If  you  alloAv  yourself  to  parley  a single 
I moment,  sleep,  like  an  armed  man,  Avill  probably  seize  upon  you,  and 
your  resolution  is  gone,  your  hopes  are  dashed,  and  your  habits  de- 
stroyed. Heed  you  be  reminded  here  that  the  young  man  aaAio  is  in 
the  habit  of  early  rising,  Avill  and  must  be  in  the  habit  of  retiring 
early,  and,  of  course,  will  put  himself  out  of  the  Avay  of  many  tempta- 
tions and  dangers  which  come  under  the  veil  of  midnight.  Hot  a feAV 
feel  that  the  rules  of  academies,  or  colleges,  Avhich  call  them  up  early, 
are  rather  a hardship  They  transgress  them  Avhen  they  dare.  Find- 
ing the  stolen  Avaters  sAveet,  they  do  all  in  their  poAver  during  vaca- 
tions, and  at  other  times,  to  prevent  themseh^es  from  forming  the  habit 
of  early  rising.  They  ought  not  to  feel  or  do  so.  The  business  of 
college,  and  the  business  of  life,  alike  require  early  rising ; and  you  are 
your  OAvn  enemy  if  you  cherish  the  feeling  that  this  is  a burden.  It 
ought  to  be  a matter  of  gratitude  that  such  regulations  prevail  in  our 
seminaries.  One  of  the  most  celebrated  Avriters  of  England  Avas  lately 
asked  hoAv  it  was  that  he  wrote  so  much,  and  yet  from  ten  in  the  fore- 
noon Avas  at  leisure  through  the  day.  “Because  I begin  to  Avrite 
at  three  o’clock  in  the  morning,”  Avas  the  reply.  Most  confidently 
do  I believe,  that  he  Avho  from  his  youth  is  in  the  habit  of  rising  early, 
Avill  be  much  more  likely  to  be  a distinguished  and  useful  man,  and 
more  likely  to  pass  a life  that  is  peaceful  and  pleasant.  I dAvell  upon 


36 


LEABN  SOMETHim  FROM  ALL. 


[CH.  II 


this  point,  because  a love  for  the  bed  is  too  frequently  a besetting  sin 
of  students,  and  a sin  which  soon  acquires  the  strength  of  a cable. 

6.  Be  in  the  habit  of  learning  something  from  every  man  with  whom 
you  meet. 

The  observance  or  neglect  of  this  rule  will  make  a wonderful  differ- 
ence in  your  character,  long  before  the  time  that  you  are  forty  years 
old.  Ail  act  upon  it,  more  or  less,  hut  few  do  it  as  a matter  of  habit 
and  calculation.  Most  act  upon  it  as  a matter  of  interest,  or  of  curi- 
osity at  the  moment.  The  great  difficulty  is,  we  begin  too  late  in  life 
to  make  everything  contribute  to  increase  our  stock  of  practical  in- 
formation. Sir  Walter  Scott  gives  us  to  understand,  that  he  never 
met  with  any  man,  let  his  calling  be  what  it  might,  even  the  most 
stupid  fellow  that  ever  rubbed  down  a horse,  from  whom  he  could  not, 
by  a few  moments’  conversation,  learn  something  which  he  did  not 
before  know,  and  which  was  valuable  to  him.  This  will  account  for 
the  fact,  that  he  seemed  to  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  everything. 
Who  but  he  would  stop  in  the  street  and  note  down  a word  which 
dropped  among  the  oaths  of  two  angry  men — a word  for  which  he  had  \ 
been  looking  for  months  ? It  is  quite  as  important  to  go  through  the 
world  with  the  ears  open  as  with  the  eyes  open.  “When  I was 
young,  ’ ’ says  Cecil,  ‘ ‘ my  mother  had  a servant,  whose  conduct  I thought 
truly  wise.  A man  was  hired  to  brew,  and  this  servant  was  to  watch 
his  method,  in  order  to  learn  his  art.  In  the  course  of  the  process, 
something  was  done  which  she  did  not  understand.  She  asked  him, 
and  he  abused  her  with  the  vilest  epithets,  for  her  ignorance  and 
stupidity.  My  mother  asked  her  how  she  bore  such  abuse.  ‘I  would 
be  called,  ’ said  she,  ‘ worse  names,  a thousand  times,  for  the  sake  of 
the  information  I got  out  of  him.  ’ ” It  is  a false  notion,  that  we  . 
ought  to  know  nothing  out  of  our  particular  line  of  study  or  profession. 
You  will  be  none  the  less  distinguished  in  your  calling  for  having  ob- 
tained an  item  of  practical  knowledge  from  every  man  with  whom  you 
meet.  And  every  man,  in  his  pa^rticular  calhng,  knows  things  which 
are  decidedly  worth  knowing. 

Multitudes  of  gifted  and  learned  men  sat  under  the  ministry  of  the 
eloquent  and  youthful  Spencer.  They  were  his , -superiors  in  every- 
thing excepting  his  own  profession,  and  perhaps  in  that,  excepting  the 
point  on  which  he  had  just  been  studying,  and  on  which  he  was  speak- 
ing. Yet  they  all  felt  that  they  were  deriving  information,  profit, 
and  pleasure  from  his  ministry.  ‘ ‘ Old-fashioned  economists  will  tell 
you  never  to  pass  an  old  nail,  or  an  old  horse-shoe,  or  buckle,  or  even 
a pin,  without  taking  it  up;  because,  although  you  may  not  Avant  it 
uow,  you  will  find  a use  for  it  some  time  or  other,  I say  the  same 


CH.  II.] 


THINK  AND  ACT  ON  A FIXED  PLAN, 


37 


thing  to  you  with  regard  to  knowledge.  However  useless  it  may 
appear  to  you  at  the  moment,  seize  upon  all  that  is  fairly  within  your 
reach.  For  there  is  not  a fact  within  the  whole  circle  of  human  ob- 
servation, nor  even  a fugitive  anecdote  that  you  read  in  a newspaper, 
or  hear  in  conversation,  that  will  not  come  into  play  sometime  or 
other ; and  occasions  will  arise  when  they  involuntarily  present  their 
dim  shadows  in  the  train  of  your  thinking  and  reasoning,  as  belonging 
to  that  train,  and  you  Avill  regret  that  you  cannot  recall  them  more 
distinctly.  ’ ’ 

I do  not  recommend  you  to  try  to  learn  everything.  Far  from  it. 
But  while  you  have  one  great  object  in  view,  you  can  attend  to  other 
things  which  have  a bearing  on  your  object.  If  you  were  now  sent  on 
an  express  to  Mexico,  while  the  great  object  before  you  would  be  to 
do  your  errand  well  and  expeditiously,  ought  you  not,  as  you  pass 
along,  to  use  your  eyes,  and  gaze  upon  the  landscapes,  the  rivers,  the 
deep  glens,  the  waterfalls,  the  wild  solitudes  of  nature,  Avhich  lie  in 
your  path  ? Ought  you  not  to  have  your  ears  open,  to  pick  up  what 
information,  story,  anecdote,  fact,  everything  of  the  kind  which  you 
can,  and  thus  return  wiser?  Would  all  this  hinder  you  in  the  least? 
And  would  you  not  be  fitting  yourself,  by  every  such  ac(juisition,  to 
be  a more  agreeable,  intelligent,  and  useful  man?  sic,  se  hahere 

rem  necesse  prorsics 

7.  Form  fixed  principles  on  which  you  think  and  act. 

A good  scholar  tries  so  to  fix  every  word  in  his  memory,  that,  when 
he  meets  with  it  again,  he  need  not  turn  to  his  dictionary.'  His  com- 
panion may  dispute  its  derivation,  or  its  gender,  and  he  may  not  be 
able  to  tell  you  just  how  the  word  appeared  when  he  looked  it  out ; 
but  he  has  m^de  up  his  mind  about  it,  and  has  a fixed  opinion.  He 
may  not  now  be  able  to  tell  you  by  what  process  he  came  to  that 
opinion.  It  should  be  so  with  everything.  Do  not  examine  a subject 
in  order  to  get  some  general  notion  of  it,  but,  if  now  in  haste,  wait 
till  you  can  do  it  thoroughly.  Ho  matter  what  it  be — of  great  im- 
portance or  small — if  it  be  worth  examining  at  all,  do  it  thoroughly, 
and  do  it  once  for  all ; so  that,  whenever  the  subject  shall  again  come 
up,  your  mind  will  be  settled  and  at  rest.  It  is  the  possession  of  es- 
tablished and  unwavering  principles  that  makes  a man  a firm  charac- 
ter. These  principles  relate  to  right  and  wrong,  and,  indeed,  to 
everything  about  which  the  judgment  has  to  balance  probabilities. 
Do  not  be  hasty  in  coming  to  conclusions.  Young  men  generally  err 
more  by  being  precipitate,  than  from  want  of  judgment.  If  they  will 
only  give  themselves  time  to  weigh  the  matter,  their  conclusions  will, 
usually  be  correct. 


38 


TESTING  OUR  PRINCIPLES. 


[CH.  II. 


have  long  adopted  an  expedient,  which  I have  found  of  singular 
service.  I have  a shelf  in  my  study  for  tried  authors,  and  one  in  my 
mind  for  tried  principles  and  characters. 

“When  an  aidlior  has  stood  a thorough  examination,  and  will  bear 
to  be  taken  as  a guide,  I put  him  on  the  shelf ! 

“When  I have  more  fully  made  up  my  mind  on  2^ principle,  I put  h 
on  the  shelf.  A hundred  subtle  objections  may  be  brought  against 
this  principle;  I may  meet  with  some  of  them,  perhaps;  but  my  prin- 
ci])le  is  on  the  shelf.  Generally  I may  be  able  to  recall  the  reasons 
which  weighed  with  me  to  put  it  there;  but  if  not,  I am  not  to  be 
sent  out  to  sea  again.  Time  was  when  I saw  through  and  detected  all 
the  subtleties  that  could  be  brought  against  it.  I have  past  evidence  of 
having  been  fully  convinced ; and  there  on  the  shelf  it  shall  be ! 

“When  I have  turned  a character  over  and  over  on  all  sides,  and 
seen  it  through  and  through  in  all  situations,  I put  it  on  the  shelf. 
There  may  be  conduct  in  the  person  which  may  stumble  others ; there 
may  be  great  inconsistencies,  there  may  be  strange  and  unaccountable 
turns;  but  I have  put  that  character  on  the  shelf;  difficulties  will  all 
be  cleared  ; everything  will  come  round  again.  I should  be  much 
chagrined,  indeed,  to  be  obliged  to  take  a character  down  which  I had 
once  put  up,  but  that  has  never  been  the  case  with  me  yet ; and  the 
best  guard  against  it  is  not  to  be  too  hasty  in  putting  them  there.” 

Those  who  understand  the  above  keen  remarks  by  experience,  well 
know  what  a luxury  it  is,  on  particular  occasions,  when  the  mind  is 
fatigued,  or  the  memory  is  weak,  and  doubts  are  started  concerning 
some  point  of  great  importance,  to  have  this  “shelf”  of  established 
principles  to  which  you  can  go.  I have  never  been  able  to  read  the 
history  of  the  martyrdom  of  the  venerable  Latimer,  without  being 
touched  almost  to  tears,  to  see  him  clinging  to  his  long-established 
principles.  They  urged  him  to  dispute  and  prove  his  religion  true, 
and  the  popish  false.  He  knew  that  he  was  old,  and  had  lost  some- 
what of  the  strength  of  his  mind.  He  would  not  dispute.  He  left 
that  for  young  and  vigorous  minds,  while  he  died  simply  repeating  his 
belief!  He  Imew  very  well  that  he  had  once  examined  the  subject 
with  all  the  vigor  of  his  intellect,  and  he  was  not  to  go  and  take  these 
principles  down  from  the  “shelf,”  and  again  prove  them  to  be  correct. 
Conduct  which  stands  on  such  a basis,  and  character  which  strikes  its 
roots  thus  deep,  will  be  such  as  will  bear  scrutiny,  and  such  as  no  storm 
can  shake. 

“The  man  resolved,  and  steady  to  his  trust, 

Inflexible  to  ill,  and  obstinately  just, 

May  the  rude  rabble’s  insolence  despise. 

Their  senseless  clamor  and  tumultuous  cries; 


cfl.  n.] 


OBSEUVATIONS  ON  TOBACCO. 


39 


The  tyrant’s  fierceness  he  beguiles,  _ 

And  the  stern  brow  and  the  harsh  voice  defies, 
And  with  superior  greatness  smiles.” 


8 Be  simple  and  neat  in  your  personal  habits. 

It  is  frequently  said,  that  “some  pride  is  necessary  among  men,  else 
they  would  not  be  decent  in  their  appearance.”  If  the  remark  means 
anything,  I suppose  it  means  that  pride  adds  much  and  frequently  to 
our  personal  appearance.  But  an  angel,  or  any  sinless  spirit  I doubt 
not  would  be  a gentleman  in  appearance  and  dress,  and  that  not  from 
pride  but  from  a desire  to  be  more  useful  and  more  happy.  Eothmg 
will  so  uniformly  and  certainly  make  you  unpopular,  as  to  have  any 

habits  that  are  slovenly.  ji^tt  a 

If  you  have  ever  learned  to  chew  or  smoke  that  Indian  weed  called 
tobacco,  I beg  that  you  will  at  once  drop  aU,  cleanse  your  mouth,  and 
never  ao'ain  defile  yourself  with  it.  Nicholas  Monardus,  a German, 
has  written  a large  folio  on  the  virtues  of  tobacco ; but  it  would  require 
many  such  folios  to  prove  it  worthy  of  a place  among  cmhzed  men. 
Let  a man  be  thrown  from  a shipwreck  upon  a desert  island,  and  in  a 
state  of  starvation,  and  he  would  rather  die  than  eat  this  weed,  though 
the  island  might  be  covered  with  it;  and  no  youth  can  use  it,  either  in 
chewing  or  smoking,  without  decided  and  permanent  injury  to  his 
appearSice,  health,  and  progress  in  study.  Let  a company  spend  the 
evening  in  smoking  the  cigar,  and  what  is  the  effect?  . W all  awd^e, 
in  the  morning,  restless,  feverish,  low-spirited,  anti  dissatisfied.  1 e 
bell  grates  upon  the  nerves  worse  than  ever.  The  mouth  is  clammy 
and  bitter;  the  stomach  uneasy,  and  each  one  feels  like  pouring  out 
the  vital  principle  in  yawning.  The  custom  certainly  seems  most  at 
home  in  a filthy  alehouse  or  bar-room.  When  the  fashion  was  so 
strono*  in  England,  that  James  I.  could  get  no  one  to  preach  against 
it  his  own  royal  hand  took  the  pen  and  wrote  a treatise,  which  he 
denominates,  “ Counterblast  to  Tobacco.^^  The  strength  of  liis^ 
princely  antidote  maybe  gathered  from  the  following  closing  para- ( 
graph  of  this  royal  Counterblast.  “It  is  a custom  loathsome  to  the 
hateful  to  the  harmful  to  the  brain,  dangerous  to  the  lungs, 

and  in  the  black fume  thereof,  nearest  resembling  the  horrible 

Stygian  smoke  of  the  pit  that  is  bottomless.  ” , , . „ . , t 

All  experienced  people  will  tell  you  that  the  habit  of  using  tobacco, 
in  any  shape,  will  soon  render  you  emaciated  and  consumptive,  your 
nerves  shattered,  your  spirits  low  and  moody,  your  throat  dry,  and 
demanding  stimulating  drinks,  your  person  filthy,  and  your  habits 

those  of  a swine.  , p i i 

Let  your  dress  be  neat  and  simple.  Do  not  feel  that  the  body, 


40 


POLLY  OF  FASHION. 


[cH.  tt 


which  is  merely  a case  for  the  soul,  is  of  too  great  inportance.  At  the 
same  time,  he  who  is  a “good  and  true  man,”  will  he  hkely  to  keep 
the  outside  of  his  house  in  good  order.  In  a certain  village  there  is  a 
house,  which  seems  designed  to  be  foppish.  Its  front  is  white,  its  left 
green,  its  back  yellow,  and  its  right  red.  Notliing  could  be  more 
ridiculous,  and  yet  it  is  not  more  ridiculous,  in  reality,  than  the  dress 
of  many  a house  that  the  soul  must  inhabit.  I would  recommend  that 
your  clothes  be  of  good  quality — so  good,  that  you  constantly  feel  that 
they  are  worth  preserving— and  that  you  feel  anxious  to  show  your 
economy,  by  the  length  of  time  they  last.  For  exercise,  you  should 
have  a different  dress.  No  one  can  enjoy  himself  who  undertakes  to 
study  and  exercise  in  the  same  dress.  In  your  study,  use  an  old  coat 
or  govm.  You  will  feel  more  easy  and  comfortable,  and  your  dress- 
coat  will  last  all  the  better  for  it.  Some  wear  a baize  jacket  in  study; 
and  this  is  very  well.  I know  of  one  who  always  studies,  summer  and 
winter,  in  his  sliirt -sleeves;  and  though  I have  an  opinion  of  him  quite 
as  high  as  he  deserves,  yet  I cannot  recommend  the  practice. 

Your  dress  should  be  warm.  If  you  wear  flannels  next  the  sldn,  be: 
sure  to  take  them  all  off  when  you  sleep.  Be  sure,  also,  to  keep  your] 
feet  dry  and  warm.  In  order  to  do  this,  you  must  use  them  every  day  in  * 
walking.  The  question  in  relation  to  dress  should  be,  not  “How  often 
can  I have  a new  hat  or  coat?”  but  “How  long  can  I wear  it,  and  j 
keep  it  handsome?”  He  who  undertakes  to  be  very  nice  and  finical  in 
his  dress,  will  make  but  a poor  student.  He  descends  toward  the 
animal  world.  Dryden,  in  his  fable  of  the  Cock  and  the  Fox,  seems 
kO  have  a dandy  before  him — 

“Then,  turning,  said  to  Partlet,  ‘See,  my  dear, 

How  lavish  Nature  hath  adorn’d  the  year;  1 

How  the  pale  primrose  and  the  violets  spring,  * 

And  birds  assay  their  throats,  disused,  to  sing: 

All  these  are  ours;  and  I,  with  pleasure,  see 
Man  strutting  on  two  legs,  and  aping  me!’  ” 

Ko  slave  is  so  abject  as  he  who  tries  to  keep  near  the  head  in  the  i 
race  of  fashions.  Alexander  is  said  to  have  had  a neck  that  was  wry;  J 
and  this  created  a fashion,  so  that  his  courtiers  all  held  their  heads  on  | 
one  side.  He  was  most  fashionable  who  lopped  his  head  the  most.  ’ 
Was  this  more  ridiculous  than  what  the  votaries  of  fashion  must  do 
continually?  But  cannot  a student  be  particularly  nice  about  his 
dress  without  having  his  heart  all  in  it  ? I reply,  ‘ ‘ That  whenever  you  | 
see  the  tail  of  a fox  out  of  the  hole,  you  may  be  pretty  sure  that  the  , 
fox  is  in  the  hole.”  Keep  your  clothes  neat  and  clean;  your  coat, 


GENERAL  COURTESY. 


41 


CH.  II.] 


your  hat,  your  boots  or  shoes,  and  be  neat  as  to  your  linen;  but  do 
not  feel  that  this  is  by  any  means  the  great  business  of  life. 

Pay  particular  attention  to  your  teeth.  By  this  I mean,  simply, 
cleanse  them  with  a soft  brush  and  with  water,  in  which  a little  com- 
mon salt  is  dissolved,  the  last  thing  before  you  retire  at  night.  This 
simple  direction,  faithfully  followed,  will  ordinarily  keep  the  teeth 
good  till  old  age.  I would  urge  this,  because,  if  neglected,  the  fol- 
lowing are  the  results : — your  breath  will  inevitably  become  offensive 
from  defective  teeth  ; your  comfort  will  be  destroyed  by  frequent 
tooth-ache;  your  health  will  suffer  for  the  want  of  good  teeth  to 
masticate  the  food;  and  last,  though  not  least,  you  will  early  lose  your 
teeth,  and  thus  your  public  speaking  will  be  irretrievably  injured. 
These  may  seem  small  affairs  now,  but  the  habit  of  neglect  Avill 
assuredly  bring  bitter  repentance  when  it  is  too  late  to  remedy  the 
neglect. 

Do  not  affect  singularity  in  any  of  your  habits.  We  never  feel  at 
home  with  a man  of  odd  habits,  and  any  such  will  assuredly  increase 
upon  him.  He  makes  a heavy  draft  upon  the  kindness  of  mankind, 
who  is  every  day  demanding  that  they  bear  with  his  eccentricities. 
You  may  now  recollect  a most  excellent  man,  who  is  often  seen  in 
company,  with  his  feet  poised  upon  the  top  of  a chair,  and  nearly  as 
high  as  his  head,  and  not  unfrequently  upon  a table.  The  habit  was 
acquired  when  a student,  and  though  a whole  company  has  often 
ached  over  the  habit,  yet  it  remains  unaltered.  You  may  be  boorish 
in  manners,  and  be  like  Johnsofi  in  tlicit  respect ; but  he  had  talents  and 
industry,  which  could  make  him  distinguished  in  spite  of  his  ill  man- 
ners. 

Be  particularly  attentive  to  your  behavior  at  table;  for,  froni  his 
situation,  the  student  is  peculiarly  tempted  to  err  there.  There  is  an 
abruptness  and  bluntness  in  the  manners  of  some  professional  inen— a 
complete  treading  under  foot  of  all  politeness.  It  may  be  attributed 
to  the  fact  that  they  probably  associated  but  little  with  refined  society 
while  students,  and  when  they  came  out  into  the  world,  not  knowing 
how  to  behave,  they  put  on  the  blunt,  hair-cloth  mode,  as  if  conscious 
of  abilities  which  would  suffer  them  to  despise  form  and  pohteness. 
But  a man  is  never  more  mistaken  than  when  he  supposes  that  any 
strength  of  mind  or  attainments  will  render  his  company  agreeaable, 
while  his  manners  are  rude.  If  you  are  accustomed  to  society,  behave 
as  you  know  how;  if  not  accustomed  to  it,  behave  modestly,  and  you 
will  behave  well;  so  that,  in  all  your  intercourse  with  your  fellow- 
■ students,  always  maintain  the  appearance  and  character  of  a gentle- 
man, never  that  of  a buffoon  or  a sloven.  And  as  your  character  now 


42 


DO  ALL  THLmS  WELL. 


[CH.  It 


IS,  m these  respects,  so  it  is  to  be  through  life.  I have  known  stu- 
dents whose  wash-stand  and  establishment  showed  that  they  were  slov- 
ens; and  they  were  never  known  to  improve  in  these  respects  Keep 
your  room  and  person,  at  all  times,  just  as  you  would  have  it  if  you 
expected  your  mother  or  sister  to  make  you  a visit.  Neatness  is  the 
word  by  which  to  designate  all  that  is  meant  in  regard  to  your  per- 
sonal appearance.  i 

Cleanliness  is  the  first  mark  of  politeness;  it  is  agreeable  to  others 
and  IS  a very  pleasant  sensation  to  ourselves.  The  humor  of  Swift  was 
not  misapplied  when  he  describes  himself  as  recovering  from  sickness 
by  changin,g  his  linen.  A clean,  neat  appearance  is  always  a good 
letter  of  introduction.  May  I request  my  readers  to  gather  the  appli- 
cation and  moral  of  the  following  beautiful  story A dervise  of 
great  sanctity  one  morning  had  the  misfortune,  as  he  took  up  a crystal 
cup,  which  was  consecrated  to  the  prophet,  to  let  it  fall  upon  the 
ground  and  d.sjsh  it  to  pieces.  His  son  coming  in  some  time  after,  he 
stretched  out  his  hand  to  bless  him,  as  liis  manner  was  every  morning* 
but  the  youth,  going  out,  stumbled  over  the  threshold  and  broke  his 
pm.  As  the  old  man  wondered  at  these  events,  a caravan  passed  by 
in  its  way  to  Mecca:  the  dervise  approached  it  to  beg  a bleessino*;  but' 
as  he  Stroked  one  of  the  holy  camels,  he  received  a kick  from  thet 
beast,  wMoh  sorely  bruised  him.  His  sorrow  and  amazement  increased^ 
upon  him,  untik  he  recollected  that,  through  hurry  and  inadveidency, 
he  had  that  inofning  come  abroad  without  washing  his  ha/nds.^^ 

9.  Acqui/re  the  habit  of  doing  everything  well.  j 

It  is  well  known  that  Johnson  used  to  write  and  send  copy  to  the! 
press,  without  even  looking  it  over  by  way  of  revising.  This  was  the 
effect  of  habit.  He  began  by  composing  slowly,  but  with  great  accu-  i 
racy.  We  are  naturally  impatient  of  restraint,  and  have  so  little.* 
patience  at  our  command,  that  it  is  a rare  thing  to  find  a young  man 
doing  anything  as  well  as  he  can.  He  wishes  to  do  it  quickly.  And : 
in  the  con  vei  sat  ion  of  students,  you  seldom  hear  one  tell  how  wed  he' 
did  this,  or  fchat,  but  how  quicTdy.  This  is  a pernicious  habit.  Any- 
thing  that  is  worth  doing  at  all,  is  worth  doing  well;  and  a mind  well  ‘ 
disciplined  m other  respects,  is  defective,  if  it  have  not  this  habit.  A 
young  man,  who  unexpectedly  lost  the  affections  of  a young  lady  of 
whom  he  was  sufficiently  fond,  informed  his  friend,  with  a good  de- 
gree of  shrewdness,  that  he  doubted  not  that  he  lost  the  prize  from  a 
very  small  circumstance.  She  handed  him  a letter  which  she  had  been 
writing  to  a friend,  and  asked  him  to  direct  it.  He  did  so,  but  in  a 
manner  so  hurried  and  slovenly  (for  it  was  his  great  ambition  to  be 
quick  m o tijig  anything),  that  she  blushed  when  she  received  it.  From 


£:VENNESS  OF  TEMPER. 


4^ 


Cfl.  It.] 

that  little  circumstance  her  affections  seemed  to  cool,  until  they  were 
dead  to  him.  His  friend  comforted  him  by  saying  tnat  ‘ ‘ she  was  more 
than  half  right.  ’ ’ 

This  incident  is  mentioned,  not  on  account  of  its  dignity,  but  to 
illustrate  the  point  in  hand.  Everything  should  be  done  well,  and 
practice  will  soon  enable  you  to  do  it  quickly.  How  many  are  misera- 
ble readers,  and  miserable  writers,  as  to  manner  and  matter,  because 
they  do  not  possess  this  habit ! Euripides  used  to  compose  but  three 
lines,  while  a contemporary  poet  composed  three  hundred;  but  one 
wrote  for  immortality,  and  the  other  for  the  day.  Your  reading  had 
better  be  but  little,  your  conversations  but  few,  your  compositions 
short,  and  well  done.  The  man  who  is  in  a “ great  hurry,  ’ ’ is  commonly 
the  one  who  hurries  over  the  small  stages  of  the  journejq  without 
making  the  great  business  of  life  to  consist  in  accomphshing  as  much 
as  possible.  The  great  secret  of  Bonaparte’s  skill,  as  a warrior,  con- 
sisted in  this,  that  he  did  his  business  thoroughly : if  he  met  an  army 
in  two  or  three  divisions,  he  did  not  divide  his  army  in  the  same  pro- 
portion. 1^0  : he  brought  all  his  strength  to  bear  upon  one  point, 
until  that  was  annihilated.  So  with  McDonough,  during  our  last  war. 
He  directed  all  his  force,  every  gun,  against  the  “big  ship”  of  the 
enemy.  Ho  matter  how  pressing  or  annoying  others  might  be ; every 
ball  was  to  be  sent  toward  the  “big  ship,”  till  her  guns  were  silent. 
This  is  a good  principle  to  carry  out  in  regard  to  everything. 

“How  is  it  that  you  do  so  much?”  said  one,  in  astonishment  at  the 
efforts  and  success  of  a great  man.  ‘ ‘ Why,  I do  but  one.  thing  at  a 
time,  and  try  to  finish  it  once  for  all.  ’ ’ I would  therefore  have  you 
keep  this  in  mind : — Do  not  send  a letter  home  blotted  or  hurried,  and 
ask  them  to  excuse  it,  because  you  are  in  a hurry.  You  have  no  right 
to  be  in  such  a hurry.  It  is  doing  injustice  to  yourself.  Do  not  make 
a memorandum  so  carelessly,  that  in  five  years  you  can  make  nothing 
of  it.  Do  not  hurry  anything  so  that  you  know  not  what  to  do,  or 
do  not  know  certainly  about  it,  and  have  to  trust  to  vague  impressions. 
What  we  call  a superficial  character,  is  formed  in  this  way;  and  none 
who  are  not  careful  to  form  and  cherish  the  habit  of  doing  everything 
well,  may  expect  to  be  anything  else  than  superficial. 

10.  Make  constant  efforts  to  he  master  of  your  temper. 

The  often-quoted  remark  of  Solomon,  in  regard  to  authorship  and 
study,  is  true  to  life ; and  that  study,  which  is  such  a ‘ ‘ weariness  to 
the  flesh,”  will  almost  certainly  reach  the  nerves,  and  render  you  more 
or  less  liable  to  be  irritated.  Who  would  have  thought  that  the  elegant 
Goldsmith  would,  in  his  retirement,  have  been  peevish  and  fretful? 
So,  we  are  told,  was  the  fact.  And  perhaps  he  who  could  \vrite  the 


44 


[ca.  It 


o?Wakefidd^®e^TmC  “Deserted  Village,”  and  the  “Vicar 

oi  waKeneicl,  exhausted  his  nerves  m trying  to  be  kind-hearted  and 
pleasant  in  his  writings;  so  that  when  he  fill  back  iX  real  hfe  he 

"freguentVX^  oXhe^X^can  JpiS  kiiTini 

disagreeabk  of  mfr,  ‘T®?  agreeable,  and  at  times  the  most 

hero  mdeed.  mthmg  grows  faster  by  indulgence  than  the  Lbit  of 

tLonXMe*^  becomes  so  fixed  that  it  lasts 

^ougn  me.  in  order  to  avoid  it,  cultivate  manliness  of  character 
Be  frank  and  open-hearted.  Not  merely  appear  so  but  reXTso 
There  is  a,n  openness,  a nobleness  of  soul,  about  some  men  \i^iich  is 
quickly  discovered,  and  as  highly  valued  We  knot  thni-’  Jh  • 

originallyadifference.in  men^  ^ome  seein  rbe  Cn  small  close' 
rnisanthropic,  and  their  whole  contour  is  on  a coXXl"’  But 

b/cX:  XrtnTmtrXr'^X'^^'*^  constitutional  tmit,  2 

ehildhood  in  +!.■  + u*  j.  may  have  been  neglected  in  your 

vStvifW’  ''^^y  you  should  neflect 

LJJl*  + n ®®®  students,  whose  means  are  small  much 

thiF  tW  X manliness  of  character.  I mention 

rich  or  poor  •'be  circumstance  of  being 

Tj  ’.'^.ch  creates  this  trait  in  your  character. 

Be  contented  in  your  situation.  Nothing  will  sooner  render  anv  one 

^irit.  Who  can  expect  to  master  himself,  to  master  lanOTaires  to 
mfnXrfw“X®’  to, master  a thousand  difficulties,  whL  ob-  : 

couraffements^^^Xv*^”™^®!  ®'f“0‘ttion,  without  meeting  with  dis-  ' 
■moof  -ii  \ s oever  undertook  to  explore  a great  region,  without 

Of  dust:  and  XZ  - 

ot  flies  ^ Your  room  is  not  pleasant.  It  is  to  be  regretted  • but  as  the 
traveler  said  about  his  straw-bed  on  the  garret-floor,  “he  could  get  a 
great  b,”  you  can  study  hard  and  thoroughly 

m It.  You  will  hereafter  often  be  called  to  task  your  mind  uSder 
circumstances  vastly  worse.  Your  room-mate  is  not  Lod-temperZ  or 

'Z^yXif  IXaXf’  X betfer  by  aS^ 

witn  you.  If  you  are  faithful  to  yourself.  He  may  have  had  poor  aJ 

vantages;  he  may  naturally  possess  a dispositiL  peculiarly  cross-  i 
u?  'u  ®’*®°®Ptible  of  great  improvement;  and  ifZu  are  i 
faithful,  he  will  alter  more  than  you  can  now  imagine.  How  ma^  ' 


CM.  ir.] 


AVOID  OREAl  EXPECTATIONS. 


4a 


young  men  have  been  saved  from  ruin  by  the  example  and  kind  warn- 
ings of  their  room-mates!  Your  boarding- place  is  not  to  your  mind. 
Very  like;  but  as  the  great  object  is  the  mind,  rather  than  the  body, 
you  will  soon  cease  to  regard  it,  if  you  do  not  stop  to  brood  over  it. 
You  see  others  with  more  pocket-money  and  better  dressed  than  your- 
self. True;  but  remember  that  the  recitation-room  is  the  place  where 
scholars  are  measured,  and  that  neither  broadcloth  nor  pocket-money 
will  avail  there.  You  will  not  unfrequently  notice  a great  difference 
in  the  appearance  of  the  same  scholars  when  on  the  promenade  and  in 
the  recitation-room.  You  will  find  many  who  can  do  much  better  in 
demonstrating  the  fashions  of  the  day  than  in  demonstrating  the  prob- 
lems in  spherical  trigonometry,  or  in  construing  Thucydides.  "Will  you 
envy  such,  and  repine  at  your  circumstances  ? 

j^nother  way  to  avoid  discontent  and  peevishness,  is  carefully  to 
avoid  revery.  Castle-building  cannot  be  laughed  out  of  existence,  else  it 
had  long  since  been  no  more.  The  mischiefs  of  it  are  immense.  We 
are  not  satisfied  with  what  we  now  are;  we  have  no  patience  to  dig, 
and  wait,  and  grow  to  eminence ; and  so  we  go  off  on  the  wings  of 
imagination,  and  range  through  all  desirable  conditions,  and  select 
one,  and  at  once  sit  down  in  empire  or  greatness.  Nature  and  fortune 
never  combined  to  create  such  an  Elysium  for  fallen  man  as  you  can  at 
once  create  for  yourself.  Fancy  soon  obtains  the  victory  over  the  soul ; 
for  it  is  vastly  more  easy  for  us  to  sit  in  our  chair,  and  dream  ourselves 
into  statesmen  and  orators,  rulers,  and  movers  of  the  world,  than  to 
put  forth  the  exertions  required  to  become  tolerable  in  actual  life,  in  any 
profession.  The  sage,  in  Easselas,  who  spent  his  time  and  thoughts, 
and  wore  himself  down  for  ten  years,  in  guiding  and  regulating  the 
planets  and  seasons,  was  wise,  in  comparison  with  many  who  live  in 
revery ; for  his  feelings  became  mellowed  and  kind,  whereas,  in  most 
cases,  the  whole  influence  of  these  day-dreams  is  bad.  They  decidedly 
sour  the  feelings.  Notice  your  own  feelings.  As  you  descend  upon 
the  world  after  a season  of  communing  with  fancy,  it  seems  like  a 
forsaken  castle,  cold  and  cheerless.  In  these  reveries  you  will  meet 
with  enemies  enough  ; but  it  is  only  that  fancy  may  lift  you  above 
them,  and  show  you  how  superior  you  are  to  everything  like  difficulties 
or  opposition.  I am  confident  that  I do  not  speak  at  random  when  I 
say  I have  known  young  men  whose  feelings  became  morose,  and  their 
countenances  became  shuthropoi,  like  those  of  the  Pharisees,  wholly  in 
consequence  of  frequently  encountering  legions  of  enemies  and  troubles 
in  their  reveries.  Let  the  imagination  become  your  master,  and  hold 
the  reins,  and  you  will  soon  become  a discontented  spirit.  At  this 
point,  I am  persuaded,  insanity  frequently  begins.  Indeed,  he  who 


46  mUMmsS  OF  JtiDGMmf.  [cH.  It 

lives  in  an  imaginary  world  is,  quoad  hoc,  insane.  Who  can  be  pleasant 
and  good-natured,  after  having  sat  an  hour,  persuading  himself  that 
he  was  electrifying  the  senate,  or  melting  a jury,  or  overwhelming  a 
city  congregation,  with  a nation  gazing  at  his  greatness,  and  then 
suddenly  awaking,  and  finding  that  he  dreads  to  have  the  hour  of 
reciting  arrive? 

11.  Cultivate  soundness  of  judgment. 

Some  can  decide,  almost  intuitively,  upon  the  character  of  the  last ; 
person  they  have  met.  So  of  a book.  They  can  turn  it  over,  read  I 
part  of  a page  here,  and  a sentence  or  two  in  another  place,  and  de- 
cide, unhesitatingly,  upon  its  merits.  When  a prejudice  has  once 
entered  your  mind  against  a man  or  an  author,  it  is  hard  to  eradicate 
it.  It  warps  the  judgment,  and  makes  you  partial.  If  this  habit  be 
indulged,  the  mind  soon  becomes  habituated  to  act  from  prejudice, 
rather  than  judgment.  ‘ ‘ A perfectly  just  and  sound  mind  is  a rare 
and  invaluable  gift.  But  it  is  still  much  more  unusual  to  see  such  a i 
mind  unbiased  in  all  its  actions.  God  has  given  this  soundness  of 
mind  but  to  few ; and  a very  small  number  of  those  few  escape  the 
bias  of  some  predilection,  perhaps  habitually  operating ; and  none,  at 
all  times,  are  perfectly  free.  I once  saw  this  subject  forcibly  illus- 
trated. A watch-maker  told  me  that  a gentleman  had  put  an  exquisite 
watch  into  his  hands,  that  went  irregularly.  It  was  as  perfect  a piece, 
of  work  as  was  ever  made.  He  took  it  to  pieces,  and  put  it  together 
again,  twenty  times.  Ho  manner  of  defect  was  to  be  discovered;  and 
yet  the  watch  went  intolerably.  At  last  it  struck  him,  that  possibly 
the  balance-wheel  might  have  been  near  a magnet:  on  applying  a 
needle  to  it,  he  found  his  suspicions  true ; here  was  all  the  mischief. 
The  steel  works  in  the  other  parts  of  the  ^v^atch  had  a perpetual  influ- 
ence on  its  motions ; and  the  watch  went  as  well  as  possible  with  a ; 
new  wheel.  If  the  soundest  mind  be  magnetized  by  any  predilection,  it 
must  act  irregularly.  ” 

As  to  judging  of  your  own  character,  do  not  forget,  that  every 
man  is  almost  sure  to  overrate  his  own  importance.  Our  friends 
flatter  us,  and  our  own  hearts  still  more.  Our  faults  are  not  seen, 
or,  if  seen,  passed  over,  or  softened  down,  by  both  of  these  parties. 
The  judgment  of  our  enemies,  though  more  severe  upon  us,  is  more 
likely  to  be  correct.  They  at  least  open  our  eyes  to  defects,  which 
we  were  in  danger  of  never  seeing.  Another  thing  is  to  be  noticed. 
The  world  praises  you  for  this  or  that  thing  which  you  do.  If, 
on  examination,  you  find  the  motives  of  that  action  wrong  and  sin- 
ful, are  you  then  judging  correctly,  if  you  estimate  your  character  by 


CH.  II.] 


ILLUSTRATION. 


47 


their  judgment  ? Many  of  our  virtues  are  of  a doubtful  nature,  and 
we  are  in  danger  of  placing  all  such  on  the  credit  side  of  the  ledger. 

An  officer  in  our  army,  of  high  character  and  promise,  told  me  that 
he  once  sat  down  to  weigh  the  principle  of  entire  abstinence  from 
ardent  spirits,  and  to  decide  whether  it  was  his  duty,  in  his  circum- 
stances, to  adopt  it.  He  took  a large  sheet  of  paper,  and  began  by 
setting  down,  in  regular  order,  all  the  reasons  why  the  principle  of 
entire  abstinence  ought  not  to  prevail.  The  list  was  somewhat  long 
and  imposing.  He  felt  pretty  sure  that  he  might  safely  take  that  side 
of  the  question.  But  to  make  it  perfectly  sure,  he  began  to  set  down 
on  another  page  the  arguments  on  the  other  side.  The}^  soon  began 
to  grow  and  grow,  till  he  was  astonished  at  their  number  and  weight. 
They  quickly  out- numbered  their  opponents;  and  it  did  not  at  first  strike 
his  attention,  that  he  had  several  put  down  against  entire  abstinence 
which  belonged  to  the  other  side.  These  were  shifted  and  altered,  till 
at  last,  with  one  dash  of  the  pen,  he  blotted  out  the  few  that  remained ; 
and  though  he  has  now  forgotten  the  steps  of  the  process,  yet,  from 
that  hour  to  this,  he  has  never  had  a doubt  on  the  question.  This  is 
Avhat  I mean  by  cultivating  soundness  of  judgment.  The  process  may 
be  slower  than  to  jump  to  conclusions,  but  it  is  much  more  satisfactory, 
and  will  give  you  the  habit  of  weighing  and  judging  correctly. 

12.  Treatment  of  parents.)  friends,  and  companions. 

I hope  it  will  appear  that  I am  not  out  of  place  in  trying  to  lead  you 
to  make  the  proper  treatment  of  friends  a habit.  Whether  you  intend 
it  or  not,  it  will  become  so.  Bemember  that,  when  you  are  away 
from  home,  you  are  more  likely  to  forget  and  neglect  your  parents, 
than  they  are  to  forget  you.  You  are  in  new  scenes,  forming  new 
acquaintances.  They  stay  at  home ; they  see  your  room,  your  clothes 
— walk  over  the  rooms  where  your  voice  has  been  so  often  and  so  long 
heard.  They  follow  you  away ; they  miss  you  at  the  table,  and  speak 
of  you ; they  let  no  day  pass  without  speaking  of  you,  and  at  night 
they  send  their  thoughts  away  after  you,  and  have  a thousand  anxieties 
about  you,  which  nothing  but  your  attentions  can  remove  or  alleviate. 
The  poet  b^utifully  compares  this  anxiety  for  absent  friends  to  that 
of  the  bird  which  leaves  her  young.  She  constantly  fears  the  serpent 
will  find  thqin  during  her  absence,  though  she  knows  her  presence 
could  do  them  no  good. 

“Comes  minore  sum  futurus  in  metu, 

Qui  major  absentes  liabet; 

Ut  assidens  implumibus  pullis  avis 
Serpentium  allapsus  timet 
Magis  relcitis:  non  ut  adsit,  auxii 
Latura  plus  praesentibus.  ” 


48 


A STUDENTS  LETTER 


[CH.  IL 


You  cannot  act  the  part  of  a dutiful  child,  without  daily  sending^ 
your  thoughts  home.  Write  to  friends  often  and  at  stated  times.  Any  , 
correspondence  between  friends  is,  in  all  respects,  more  valuable,  in- 
teresting,  useful,  and  pleasant  to  all  parties,  for  being  regular  and  at 
stated  times.  You  then  know  when  to  write,  and  when  to  expect  a 
letter,  and  there  is  no  wondering  why  a letter  does  not  come,  and  no 
chiding  for  negligence.  Enter  into  no  correspondence,  unless  it  be  on 
occasional  business,  which  will  not  be  so  valuable  that  you  wish  to 
continue  it  ; and  then  have  periodical  times  of  writing.  To  your 
parents,  it  should  be  at  least  once  every  month.  In  these  letters,  talk 
out  your  feelings  in  that  easy,  cheerful  manner  that  you  would  were 
you  at  home,  and  entertaining  the  family  circle  in  the  vacation.  I 
shall  not  ask  pardon  for  introducing  here  a letter  from  one,  whose  at- 
tentions to  the  person  addressed  have  never  been  regretted.  The 
letter  needs  no  expositor,  and  as  it  seems  to  me,  no  apology  for  being 
inserted  here. 

“ College,  Tuesday  Evening. 

“My  dear  Mother, 

Tlioiig'li  I am  now  sitting  with  my  back  toward  you,  yet  I love  you  none 
the  less;  and,  what  is  quite  as  strange,  I can  see  you  just  as  plainly  as  if  I stood  peep- 
ing in  upon  you.  I can  see  you  all,  just  as  you  sit  round  the  family  table.  Tell  me,  if 
I do  not  see  you.  There  is  mother  on  the  right  of  the  table,  with  her  knitting,  and  a 
book  open  before  her;  and  anon  she  glances  her  eyes  from  the  work  on  the -paper  to 
that  on  her  needles;  now  counts  the  stitches  and  then  puts  her  eye  on  the  book,  and 
starts  otf  for  another  round.  There  i-^  IMary,  looking  wise,  and  sewing  with  all  her 
might,  now  and  then  stopping  to  give  Sarah  and  Louisa  a lift  in  getting  their  lessons, 
and  trying  to  initiate  them  into  the  mysteries  of  geography.  She  is  on  tlie  left  of  the  table. 
There,  in  the  back -ground,  is  silent  Joseph,  with  his  slate,  now  maKing  a mark,  and 
then  biting  his  lip,  or  scratching  his  head,  to  see  if  the  algebraic  expression  may  have 
liidden  in  either  of  those  places.  George  is  in  the  kitchen,  tinkering  his  skates,  or 
contriving  a trap  for  that  old  offender  of  a rat,  whose  cunning  has  so  long  brought 
mortification  upon  all  his  boastings.  I can  now  hear  his  hammer,  and  his  whistle — that 
peculiar,  sucking  sort  of  whistle,  which  always  indicates  a puzzled  state  of  the  brain. 
Little  William  and  flenry  are  snug  in  bed,  and  if  you  will  just  open  their  bed -room 
door,  you  will  barely  hear  them  breathe.  And  now,  mother  has  stopped,  and  is  absent 
and  thoughtful,  and  my  heart  tells  me  that  she  is  thinking  of  her  only  absent  child. 
Who  can  he  be?  Will  you  doubt  any  more  that  1 have  studied  magic,  and  can  see  with 
my  back  turned  to  you,  and  many  a hill  and  valley  between  us? 

“You  have  been  even  kinder  than  I expected,  or  you  promised.  I did  not  expect  to 
hear  from  you  till  to-morrow  at  the  earliest.  But  as  I was  walking,  to-day,  one  of  my 
class-mates  cries,  ‘A  bundle  for  you  at  the  stage-office!’  and  away  I went  as  fast  as  the 
dignity  of  a sophomore  would  allow  me.  The  bundle  I seized,  and  muffled  it  under 
my  cloak,  though  it  made  my  arm  ache,  with  as  much  speed  as  my  ‘conditions’  would 
permit  me,  I reached  my  room.  Out  came  my  knife,  and  forgetting  all  your  good 
advice  about  ‘strings  and  fragments,  ’ the  said  bundle  quickly  owned  me  victor,  and 
opened  its  very  heart  to  me;  and  it  had  a warm  heart  too.  for  there  were  the  stockings, 
(they  are  now  on  my  feet,  i.e.,  one  pair,)  and  there  were  the  flannels,  and  the  bosoms, 
and  the  gloves,  and  the  pincushion  from  Louisa,  and  the  needle-book  from  Sarah,  and 
the  paper  from  Mary,  and  the  letters  and  love  from  all  of  you.  I spread  open  my 


TO  ms  FRIENDS. 


49 


CH.  II.]  

treasures,  aud  both  my  heart  and  feet  danced  for  joy  while  my  hands  actually  rubbed 
each  other  out  of  sympathy.  Thanks  to  you  all,  for  bundle,  and  letters,  and  love. 
One  corner  of  my  eye  is  now  moistened,  while  I say,  ‘Tliaiik  ye  all,  gude  folks.  1 
must  not  forget  to  mention  the  apples — ‘the  six  apples,  one  from  each’  and  the  beauti- 
ful little  loaf  of  cake.  I should  not  dare  to  call  it  little,  if  it  had  not  brought  the  name 
from  you.  The  apples  I have  smelled  of,  and  the  cake  I have  just  nibbled  a little,  and 
pronounce  it  to  be  ‘in  the  finest  taste.  ’ , „ x , i j > 

“Now  a word  about  your  letters.  I cannot  say  much,  for  I have  only  read  mother  s 
three  times  and  Mary’s  twice.  Those  parts  which  relate  to  my  own  acts  and  doings. 


pick  out  glasses  that  will  fit  them?  I am  glad,  too,  that  the  new  1 _ 

shall  depW  on  you  to  read  for  me,  for  here  I read  nothing  but  my  lexicon,  and,  per- 
adventure,  dip  into  mathematics.  Joseph’s  knife  shall  be  forthcoming,  and  the  orders 
of  William  aud  Henry  shall  be  honored,  if  the  apothecary  has  the  pigments.  George 
is  delighted  with  his  new  sled’— a cheering  item;  for  my  thumb  has  retired  into  his  cot, 
and  growled  and  ached  ever  since,  and  even  now,  ever  and  anon,  gives  me  a twinge  by 
way  of  recalling  the  feat  of  building  the  sled.  And  you  really  think  the  pigs  have 
profited  by  my ‘labors,  and  that,  though  they  have  forgotten  me,  yet  they  like  the  sty! 
If  they  do  well,  I shall  be  paid  next  fall,  whether  they  are  grateful  or  not.  Old  Charhiy 
should  be  kept  warm.  He  has  carried  us  too  many  miles  to  be  neglected  now.  I am 
sorry  I did  not  have  his  condition  more  in  mind  when  at  home.  Poor  fellow!  I enjoyed 
his  aid  and  helped  to  make  him  grow  old.  And  old  Rover,  let  him  have  his  new 
kennel  warm;  and  if  he  thinks  so  much  of  me  as  to  ‘go  to  my  room  after  me,’  let  him 
have  my  old  wrapper.  One  member  more — tell  Sukey  that,  though  I mention  her  after 
horses  and  dogs,  it  is  not  out  of  any  want  of  respect.  I will  wear  the  mittens  which 
she  knit  and  sent,  and,  in  return,  though  I cannot  approve,  will  send  as  much  at  least, 
of ‘real  Scotch’ as  will  fill  her  box. 

“I  suppose  the  pond  is  all  frozen  over,  and  the  skating  good.  I know  it  is  foolish; 
yet,  if  mother  and  Mary  had  skated  as  many  ‘moony’  nights  as  I have,  they  would  sigh, 
not  at  the  thought,  but  at  iliefact  that  skating  days  are  over.  Never  was  a face  more 
bright  and  beautiful  than  the  face  of  that  pond  in  a clear,  cold  night,  under  a full 
moon.  Do  the  boys  go  down  by  my  willow  still?  and  do  they  still  have  the  flag  on  the 
little  island  in  the  center,  where  I used  to  rear  the  flag-staff  once  a year?  I was  going 
to  tell  you  all  about  college.  But  when  I think  I will  begin,  pop!— my  thoughts  are  all 
at  home!  What  a place  home  is!  I would  not  now  exchange  ours  for  wealth  enough 
to  make  you  all  kings  and  queens.  , , „ . „ 

“I  am  warm,  well,  and  comfortable;  we  all  study  some;  and  dull  fellow’s  like  me 
have  to  confess  that  we  study  hard.  We  have  no  genius  to  help  us.  My  chum  is  a 
good  fellow;— he  now  sits  in  yonder  corner— his  feet  poised  upon  the  stove  in  such  a 
way  that  the  dullness  seems  to  have  all  run  out  of  his  heels  into  his  head,  for  he  is  fast 

asleep.  . „ p , . x i i 

“IX  have  got  it  framed,  and  there  it  hangs— the  picture  of  my  father!  I never  look 
up  without  seeing  it,  I never  see  it  without  thinking  that  my  mother  is  a widow,  and 
that  I am  her  eldest  son.  What  more  I think  I will'  not  be  fool  enough  to  say:  you 
will  imagine  it  better  than  I can  say  it.  i j x -i. 

“Your  gentle  hint,  dear  mother,  about  leaving  my  Bible  at  home,  was  kind;  but  it 
will  relieve  you  to  know  th.at  I left  it  designedly,  and,  in  its  place,  took  my  dear 
father’s  from  the  upper  shelf  in  our  little  library  room;  and,  what  is  more,  I read  it 

need*  not  say  Write,  write;  for  I know  that  some  of  you  will,  at  the  end  of  three 
weeks.  But  love  to  you  all,  and  much  too.  I shall  tell  you  of  my  methods  of  economy 

in  my  next,  “Your  affectionate  son,  &c.” 


50 


A STUDENTS  LETTER. 


[CH.  II. 


Can  any  of  my  readers  doubt  that  a letter  like  the  above  would  do 
much  to  aUeviate  the  anxiety  of  the  mother,  and  add  greatly  to  the 
comfort  of  the  family?  Every  son  can  show  such  attentions,  and  at 
the  same  time  keep  his  own  heart  warm  with  the  remembrances  of 
home  and  kindred.  It  will  add  to  your  ease  in  letter- writing,  and  it 
will  cultivate  some  of  the  noblest  and  sweetest  virtues  of  which  the 
heart  is  susceptible. 

I would  say  a few  words  on  the  choice  and  treatment  of  friends- 
and  as  this  subject  is  treated  of  by  almost  every  writer  I shall  be 
brief.  1 ou  must  and  will  have  some,  with  whom  you  are  more  inti- 
m^e  than  with  the  rest  of  your  companions.  There  are  two  special 
difficulties  attending  friendships;  first,  it  is  hard  to  acquire  a real 
friend;  and,  secondly,  it  is  still  harder  to  keep  him.  The  acquaint- 
ance, which  IS  afterward  ripened  into  friendsliip,  is,  of  course,  in  the 
first  place,  casual.  And  those  who  are  first  to  extend  the  hand  to 
embrace  you,  are  seldom  those  whose  friendship  continues  lone*  Be 
cautious  m selecting  your  friends,  and  look  long  and  well  before  you 
allow  any  one  to  say,  that  he  is  your  bosom- companion,  and  that  you 
• share  each  other  s thoughts  and  secrets.  In  selecting  your  friends  you 
vuU  remember  that  you  will  borrow  habits,  traits  of  character,  modes  of 
thought  and  expression,  from  each  other;  and  therefore,  be  careful  to 
select  those  who  have  not  excellencies  merely,  but  whose  faults  are  as 
few  as  may  be.  Some  rely  too  much  upon  friends,  and  think  they 
will  never  pass  away,  and  never  change.  Others  who  have  known  by 
experience,  that  friends  may  do  both,  will  tell  you  that  friendship 
IS  “hut  a name,”  and  means  nothing.  Extremes  are  never  in  the 
right.  There  is  much,  both  of  wisdom  and  beauty,  in  the  followiim 
remarks.  They  are  not  taken  from  the  writings  of  Confucius  else  had 
they  been  set  in  gold  long  since. 

/‘Sweet  language  will  multiply  friends,  and  a fair-speaking  toncrue 
will  multiply  kind  greetings.  Be  in  peace  with  many:  nevertheless 
have  but  one  counsellor  in  a thousand.  If  thou  wouldst  get  a friend 
prove  him  first,  and  be  not  hasty  to  credit  him;  for  some  man  is  a 
friend  for  his  own  occasion,  and  will  not  abide  in  the  day  of  thy  trouble 
Separate  thyself  from  thine  enemies,  and  take  heed  to  thv  friends  A 
faithful  friend  is  a strong  defence,  and  he  that  hath  found  such  a one 
hath  found  a treasure.  A faithful  friend  is  the  medicine  of  life  For- 
sake not  an  old  friend,  for  the  new  is  not  comparable  to  him:*  a new 
foend  is  as  new  wine:  when  it  is  old,  thou  shalt  drink  it  with  pleasure 
Whoso  casteth  a stone  at  the  birds  frayeth  them  away,  and  he  that 
upbraideth  his  friend  breaketh  f rend  ships ; for  upbraiding,  or  pride  or 
disclosing  of  secrets,  or  a treacherous  wound,  every  friend  will  depart.” 


CM.  n.] 


SELMGTiNG  FHIEND^. 


61 


Verbum  duloe  multiplicat  amioos,  et  lingua  eucharis  bom^ 

ine  abundat.  Multi  paciflci  sint  tibi,  et  consibarms  sit  tibi  unus  de 
nossides  amicurn,  in  tentatione  posside  emu,  et  ne  taciie 
credasei.  W enim  amicius  secundum  teinpus 

r-r^H£g|i3£ 

srSiS  - ixf 

familiarity  is  inconsistent  with  any  abiding  friendship. 

“The  man  who  hails  you  Tom,  or  Jack, 

And  proves,  by  thumping  on  your  back, 

His  sense  of  your  great  merit, 

Is  such  a friend  that  one  had  need 
Be  very  much  his  friend  indeed, 

To  pardon  or  to  bear  it.” 

You  will  soon  be  ashamed  to  love  one  for  whom  ^ 

SeVaS V.  oh.r»«r  or  Say.  • 

‘°lou1v'f“aiwav.ol».™  that  those  IrLendshii®  al.ioh  im  the  p™t 

Xn  whV  they  do  not.  But  it  has  been  «hr7C Uy  remarked^^  I 
not  remember  that  Ychates,  who  is  represented  as  the  hret  ^ 

g-atE  s'L.llJ'S  a*  S 

St.  ?oS 

* The  lover  ot  classical  Latin  wiil  please  to  ”};t'-’itlssed“in  u' 
the  Latin,  than  for  the  beautiful  sentiments  so  elegantly  expressed  m . 


52 


4 

THE  ESSENTIALS  OE  FRIENESBlP.  fen  jj 

what  you  wish  him  to  be  to  you.  Wliiie  T wonW  i ' 

young  man  to  commit  to  memory  the  whoiT  of  V 
description  of  “Friendshin  ” T woiU/l  ' j Cowper  s beautifu) 
the  following  sentiZnt75peJnr:i’  keej! 

rri  places  and  tlie  beauties 

lliat  form  the  character  he  seeks- 
or  tis  a union  that  bespeaks 
Reciprocated  duties.  ’ ’ 

t s’,7S“  7 * 71“*  “* 

iilipisg-igs 

#ifsSgKllffii2| 

Si.S  “tm  sJ*r!T**’  ""s”'  f"'  yS 

oT  *^*1  F ^ strict  and  un wavering*  regard  for  tmfh  ia 

absolutely  essential  to  having  friends?  Wp  dp  ^ * u + i, 

iiSHfejSSilS 

tor  mmseH,  and  m vam  ask  or  seek  for  a friend  F / J 

1 have  dwelt  somewhat  on  this  point— longer,'  nerhans  than  wn<,  tr. 
be  expected,  under  the  title  of  this  chapter.  Sut  is  my  wisK  t a^l^ 
my  readers  may  have  friends,  select,  disinterested  friends; ^nd  I kLw 


#0#  TO  STuDt, 


63 


Cfi.  IT.] 


that  they  cannot,  unless  they  make  it  a part  of  their  daily  habits  and 
business  to  cultivate  their  own  hearts,  and  render  themselves  worthy 
of  being  beloved.  The  tree  cannot  live  and  thrive  without  great  care; 
but  if  it  receive  that  care,  it  will  bear  fruit  abundantly  for  many  years, 
flow  often  has  the  heart  of  my  reader  thrilled  at  the  warm  greetings  of 
one  who  said,  "‘Your  father  and  I were  friends!’’  Friendship  can 
lessen  no  joy  by  having  a sharer.  It  brightens  every  one.  At  the 
same  time,  it  diminishes  sorrow,  in  every  shape,  by  dividing  the  burden. 


III. 

STUDY. 

When  the  company  had  wearied  themselves  in  trying  to  make  an 
egg  stand  on  its  end,  they  were  amazed  at  the  simplicity  of  the  thing, 
when  once  they  had  seen  Columbus  do  it. 

“Why,  anybody  can  do  that!” 

“Why,  then,  did  you  not?”  was  the  searching  reply. 

It  seems  to  be  an  easy  affair  to  study.  There  is  the  room,  and  there 
the  books,  and  there  the  lesson:  what  more  do  you  want?  You  want 
to  know  how  to  go  to  work — how  to  study.  The  interruptions  to 
study,  even  when  the  student  has  nothing  else  to  do — not  a care,  nor  a 
burden  of  any  kind  to  trouble  him — are  numerous  and  vexatious^^ 
Deductions  must  be  made  for  ill-health,  and  seasons  when  the  spirits'^ 
droop,  and  when  there  is  a total  disrehsh  for  stud}^,  and  a want  of  cour- 
age, by  which  the  mind  can  be  brought  up  to  action ; for  a total  ignorance 
of  the  best  methods  of  studying ; for  the  interruptions  of  companions 
who  have  yawned  over  their  own  books,  till  they  could  make  little  or 
nothing  out  of  them,  and  then  have  come  to  get  sympathy  and  coun- 
tenance from  others ; for  the  time  wasted  in  reading  novels,  or  other 
useless  books;  and,  above  all,  for  that  natural,  iimerent  indolence, 
which  recoils  from  the  task  of  rebuking  the  wandering  of  the  thoughts, 
and  bringing  them  back  to  their  prescribed  tasks.  Escaping  from 
home  will  not  relieve  the  difficulty;  neither  will  removing  from  one 
school  to  another,  or  changing  one  college  for  another.  You  must 
make  up  your  mind  that  no  one  can  go  on  in  a course  of  study  without 
interruptions  from  within  and  from  without.  Calculate  upon  this.  And 
it  is  well  that  it  is  so ; for,  in  real  life,  if  you  can  get  two  full  hours  in  a 
week  without  interruption,  you  may  think  it  extraordinary.  The  mind 
must  form  the  habit  of  being  checked  and  interrupted,  and  of  bringing 


S4 


Moms  OF  DAILY  STUDY. 


tcH.  It. 


itself  back  to  the  point  from  which  it  was  taken  off,  and  at  once  nur- 
sumg  the  tram  of  mental  operations  in  which  it  was  enffaffed.  Till 
this  power  is  obtained,  you  are  not  prepared  for  active  life;  and  in 
proportion  as  it  is  acquired,  in  that  proportion  will  little  hindrances 
appear  to  you  of  htt  e consequence.  I propose  to  make  some  sugges- 
tions in  the  form  ot  hints,  in  relation  to  study,  not  so  much  regarding 
the  order  of  their  introduction,  as  endeavoring  not  to  omit  any  that 
are  of  real  importance. 

1 . The  numler  of  hours  of  daily  study. 

JSTo  fixed  time  can  be  marked  out  for  all. 

^ust  vary  with  the  constitution  of  •each  individual.  A mind 
that  moves  slowly  requires  and  will  bear  more  time  for  studv  In 
(rermany,  the  students  spend  many  more  hours  than  we  can  in  this 
country.  I have  tried  to  account  for  the  fact,  that,  with  their  pre- 
psterqus  habits  of  eating  and  indolence,  they  can  study  so  mLv 
hours  m a day  and  that  to  extreme  old  age.  Doubtless  national 
habits  do  something;  individual  habits  do  something;  but  these  will 
not  account  for  it.  Many  of  them  will  study  sixteen  hours  a day  • 
tew  of  them  less  than  thirteen.  We  should  all  die  under  it!  The 
ciitierence  may  be  attributed  to  two  causes,  for  the  correctness  of  which 
1 cannot  vouch;  viz.,  their  mental  operations  are  slower  than  ours 
and  their  climate  is  less  variable  and  better  adapted  to  a student’s  life’ 
few,  in  our  own  country,  ever  studied  half  as  much  as  they  have  if 
hours  are  to  be  the  criterion.  But  another  remark  may  here  be  made 
Crermany  is  distinguished  for  the  study  of  the  classics,  for  the  making 
ot  lexicons  and  commentaries,  and  for  studies  of  such  a nature  as  require 
diligence  and  accuracy,  but  make  no  very  great  draft  upon  the  soul. 
15e  tms  as  it  may,  it  is  certain  that  we  must  do  what  we  do,  by  way 
of  daily  study,  in  fewer  hours;  and,  in  my  view,  it  is  vastly  better  to 
Cham  the  attention  down  closely,  and  study  hard,  a few  hours,  than  to 
try  to  keep  it  moderately  fixed  and  engaged  for  a greater  length  of 
time.  Our  most  successful  students  seldom  study  over  six  hours  in  a 
day.  In  this  I include  nothing  of  recitations,  of  desultory  half- 
formed  impulses  of  the  mind;  but  I mean  real,  hard,  devoted  study 
He  who  would  study  six  hours  a day,  with  all  the  attention  of  which 
the  soul  IS  capable,  need  not  fear  but  he  will  yet  stand  high  in  his 
calling.  But  mark  me— must  le  study  as  intense  as  the  soul  will 
bear.  The  attention  must  all  be  absorbed;  the  thoughts  must  all  be 
brought  m,  and  turned  upon  the  object  of  study,  as  you  would  turn  the 
collected  rays  of  the  sun  into  the  focus  of  the  glass,  when,  you  would 
get  fire  from  those  rays.  Do  not  call  miscellaneous  reading,  or  any- 
thing which  you  do  by  way  of  relief  or  amusement,  study;  it  is  not 


III.] 


CON  VERS  A T1 ON  D TIRING  STUDY. 


55 


study.  Be  sure  to  get  as  much  of  your  study  in  the  morning  _ as 
possible.  The  mind  is  then  in  good  order.  Aurora  musts  arnica, 

2 Have  regard  to  the  positions  of  the  body  while  engaged  in  study. 

Some  men,  from  early  life,  habituate  themselves  to  study,  sitting  at 
a low,  flat  table.  This  ought  to  be  avoided;  for,  as  you  advance  in 
life,  that  part  of  the  body  which  is  between  the  shoulders  and  hips, 
becomes  more  and  more  feeble,  and  consequently  the  stooping  habit  is 
acquired.  Few  literary  men  walk  or  sit  perfectly  erect.  Standing  is 
undoubtedly  the  best  method  of  study,  if  you  will  only  hegmm  this 
way.  In  writing,  in  the  study  of  languages,  and  most  lands  of 
mathematics,  you  must  be  confined  to  one  spot.  If  3^?^ 
positions,  and  stand  a part,  and  sit  a part  of  the  time,  it  wiU  be  weU 
but  the  former  should  preponderate.  As  you  advanc^  in  life,  you  will 
naturally  sit  more  and  more,  till  the  habit  becomes  fixed.  lew  men 
are  seen  standing  at  their  books  after  forty  years  of  age..  The  late 
talented  and  lamented  Grimke  informs  us  that  he  uniformly  stood, 
and  did  most  of  his  studying  while  walking  in  his  room.  It  you  are 
composing,  or  reading,  or  committing  to  memory,  this  position  is  a 
desirable  one.  Be  sure  you  have  your  table  high  enough,  and  keep 
clear  of  the  rocking-chair,  with  a writing-leaf  on  the  arm  ot  it.  bit- 
ting in  such  a chair  gives  the  body  a twisting  position,  \vhich  is  almost 
sure  to  lead  to  poor  health,  and  not  unfrequently  to  the  grave.  It 
possible,  place  your  table,  the  top  of  which  should  so  slope  a little, 
that  the  light  may  fall  upon  you  from  behind.  This  will  be  a kindness 
to  the  eyes.  In  the  evening,  it  is  well  to  have  the  lamp  shaded,  or  to 
have  a shade  drawn  over  the  eyes.  I would  hope,  however,  that  you 
]^00p  your  lessons  so  much  in  advance,  that  the  necessity  ot  putting 
your  eyes  to  a severe  trial  will  be  avoided.  If  your  eyes  are  weak,  be 
careful  that  a glare  of  light  does  not  fall  upon  them;  and  be  sure  to 
wash  them  in  cold  water  the  last  thing  at  night,  and  the  first  in  the 
morning  The  great  desideratum  in  the  choice  of  positions,  is,  to 
keep  the  body  as  straight  as  possible.  A bending  at  the  chest  is  by 
all  means  to  be  avoided.  Your  dress,  even  to  the  slipper,  should  sit  as 
loosely  as  possiole;  and  the  house  which  is  now  to  stand  still,  and  ip. 
which  the  mind  is  to  labor,  should  be  as  easy  as  it  can  be,  without 
assuming  a position  which,  by  long  habit,  will  court  the  embrace  ot 


3.'  Let  there  be  no  conversation  in  the  hours  of  study. 

This  direction  goes  on  the  supposition  that  you  have  a room-mate, 
which  is  usually  the  case.  A lesson  is  easily  spoiled  by  being  inter- 
rupted, every  now  and  then,  with  some  question,  raised  on  that,  or 


56 


TEOUO  U GHNBSS  0 F STUD  T. 


uu  I,  p 

some  other  subieot 

tion  is  albwed^-n  the  ” conversa 

lesson  whose  meaning  or  Those  if  you  a word  Tu  S' 

the  room  Teut  not  a^sk  yof  TfriendT  j TT“®  ' 

begina  half-houVefrCanTlefveT^^  Tte  fhin 

you  have  definitely  settlecf every  worf^T  ami  until 

Some  are  m the  habit  of  stXiuT;,®  1 e/ery  sentence, 
a very  bad  practice.  The  haWt^s**‘^°’^'^  together,  or  in  small  clubs- 
refuses  to  make  any  efforts  XT  tTTi„d’ 

tiave  a constant  “Eee”  fn  fnVi  if  • ’ becomes  neep<i!QnT«xr  + 

tooubliome’hTiC^'‘'STtgiciT  TfchTiT£ 

not  be  banished  from  yf^  rooT  he  T conversation 

and  on  no  other  subjeck  ' ‘'®  to  have  it  on  the  TsT 

p-  if^orough  in  every  study.  ' 

querinTa  TTtry.®^*^!? yT'^Xw"  compared  to  con 

thereT  foT®  to  vSmTZTif''"’^''^T’''^  'neet,  ' 

oTyT~ 

Socrates  ille  non  homin  TT^  i ^ *^®t  can  be  inovvn  abo„i  it  i 

sudand^us  pr®m“uSpoZ!T  AC7tAZ  I 

. ^ who  accustoms  himsel  f f ri  -no 


en.  m.] 


TBOBommEss  or  sti/et. 


b1 


inaccurate  scholar ; will  feel  but  half  confident  on  any  subject : and, 
what  is  worse,  will  hav^e  acquired  a habit  which  will  forever  make  his 
knowledge  vague  and  uncertain,  both  to  himself  and  to  others.  There 
is  such  a constant  mortification  and  loss  of  self-respect  attending  the 
habit  of  going  upon  the  surface,  that,  were  it  only  for  personal  com- 
fort, you  should  be  thorough.  At  the  first  setting  out,  your  progress 
will  be  slower — perhaps  very  slow ; but  in  the  long  race  before  you, 
you  will  be  the  gainer.  How  often  have  I seen  a man,  with  a mind 
originally  bright,  chagrined  and  humbled  at  his  want  of  accuracy! 
He  makes  an  assertion,  and  calls  it  a quotation  from  some  distinguished 
author.  “Does  Burke  say  so,  and  advocate  that  sentiment?  I never 
understood  him  so,”  says  an  accurate  listener.  He  now  begins  to 
hesitate — apologizes — says  it  is  a great  while  since  he  read  Burke,  but 
such  is  his  impression.  Has  he  not  fallen  in  the  estimation  of  every 
one  present,  and  in  his  own  also?  And  yet,  such  is  the  habit  fixed 
upon  him,  that  he  will  go  and  again  tread  over  the  same  ground  with 
hesitating  steps. 

Two  farms  may  lie  side  by  side;  the  one  may  be  “run  ov^er”  by  the 
hand  of  the  cultivator.  Here  is  a poor  spot  of  mowing,  and  there  is  a 
miserable-looking  corn-field,  and  yonder  a wretched  fern  pasture.  It 
covers  a great  extent  of  territory,  but  no  part  of  it  is  subdued  or  culti- 
vated. The  other  farm  has  its  fences  in  order,  its  mowing  lots  all  side 
by  side,  and  its  fields,  so  far  as  anything  is  done,  perfectly  subdued. 
Every  acre  that  claims  to  have  been  subdued,  will  bear  a certain,  a 
definite,  and  a full  crop.  Is  there  any  doubt  which  of  the  two  farms 
is  more  profitable,  or  which  method  of  cultivation  is  the  most  wise? 

How  much  better  is  knowledge — something  that  you  knoiv — than 
any  amount  of  conjecture  formed  somewhere  in  the  region  of  knowl- 
edge! Have  you  never  seen  the  face  of  an  educated  man — i.e.,  of  one 
Avho  ought  to  have  been  educated — gather  a blank  upon  it,  at  the 
sound  of  a Latin  or  Greek  quotation?  Like  the  hero  in  one  of  Moliere’s 
comedies,  he  understands  it,  but  wishes  it  translated.  The  aptness  and 
humor  of  the  case  will  justify  my  quoting  it. 

y Le  M.  de  Phil.  Ce  sentiment  est  raisonnable  ; namsine  doctr  ind 
vita  est  quosi  mortis  imago.  Yous  entendez  cela,  et  vous  entendez  le 
Latin  sans  deute? 

“AT.  Jour.  Oui,  mais  faites  comme  si  je  ne  le  savais  pas:  expliquez- 
moi  ce  que  cela  veut  dire ! 

''Le  M.  de  Phil.  Cela  veut  dire,  que  sans  la  science,  la  vie  est 
presque  Pimage  de  la  mort. 

" M.  Jour.  Ce  Latin-la  a raison.” 

Everything  should  be  understood  as  far  as  you  go ; and  never  should 


58 


02r  tisim  TuAnsLAfiom 


tcH.  lltj 

I 

you  allow  yourself  to  think  of  going  into  the  recitation-room,  anda 
there  trust  to  “skinning,”  as  it  is  called  in  some  colleges,  or  “phras- 
ing,” as  in  others,  or  “mouthing  it,”  as  in  others.  No  man  who  re- 
gards his  reputation  as  a scholar  will  ever  do  this. 

One  lesson  or  one  book,  perfectly  and  thoroughly  understood,  would 
do  you  more  good  than  ten  lessons,  or  ten  books,  not  half  studied. 
Mr.  Evarts,  to  whom  allusion  has  already  been  made,  read  his  Greet 
Testament  so  thoroughly  tvhile  fitting  for  college,  that  he  was  in  th( 
habit,  through  life,  of  readily  repeating  any  passage  to  which  allusior 
was  made.  And  several  of  our  best  scholars  committed  and  recitec 
the  whole  of  Yirgil  without  carrying  a book  into  the  recitation-room, 
One  of  them,  at  least,  did  the  same  with  the  whole  of  Horace. 

‘ ‘ When  you  have  a mind  to  improve  a single  thought,  or  to  be  cleai 
in  any  particular  point,  do  not  leave  it  till  you  are  master  of  it.  Yiev 
it  in  every  light.  Try  how  many  ways  you  can  express  it,  and  whicl 
is  shortest  and  best.  Would  you  enlarge  upon  it,  hunt  it  down  fron 
author  to  author ; some  of  which  will  suggest  hints  concerning  it,  which 
perhaps,  never  occurred  to  you  before : and  give  every  circumstancf 
its  weight.  Thus,  by  being  master  of  every  subject  as  you  proceed 
though  you  make  but  a small  progress  [in  the  number  of  books  whicl 
you  study],  you  will  make  a speedy  one  in  useful  knowledge.  T( 
leave  matters  undetermined,  and  the  mind  unsatisfied  in  what  we  study 
is  but  to  multiply  half-notion,  introduce  confusion,  and  is  the  way  ti; 
make  a pedant,  but  not  a scholar.”  I 

Some  plausible  and  ingenious  things  have  been  said  in  favor  of  usin^ 
translations  to  Latin  and  Greek  authors.  My  own  observation  has  no 
been  so  extended  as  that  of  very  many ; but  so  far  as  it  does  go,  I cai 
unhesitatingly  say,  that  I never  knew  any  other  than  miserable  scholar 
made  by  the  use  of  translations.  I have  seen  scholars  use  a translatioi 
of  Yirgil,  another  of  Horace,  and  as  many  as  they  could  get  t< 
authors  selected  in  Graeca  Majora ; and  though  they  recited  smoothh 
at  the  time,  and  perhaps  even  better  than  those  who  dug  it  all  out,  ye; 
I am  confident  that  they  knew  less  about  Latin  and  Greek  at  the  enc 
of  every  year.  I am  sorry  to  disturb  the  feelings  of  any  reader  wh( 
has  a faithful  translation  carefully  put  away  in  his  drawer  or  desk,  anc 
at  which  he  now  and  then  so  stealthfully  peeps ; but  let  him  continui 
to  use  it,  and  I will  warrant  him  that  soon,  though  the  reason  may  no 
be  assigned,  or  even  known,  he  will  lose  all  that  respect  which  belong! 
solely  to  a thorough  student.  I have  known  those  who  studied  Horac< 
with  a translation,  and,  though  they  went  off  '' smartly^'^  at  the  time 
not  able,  at  the  end  of  two  years,  to  read  an  ode.  ‘ ‘ Go  to  the  foun 
tain-head.  Head  original  authors’  rather  than  collect  translated  anc 


3H.  III.] 


HARD  STUDY. 


59 


detailed  thoughts.  It  will  give  you  more  satisfaction,  more  certainty, 
nore  judgment,  and  more  confidence,  when  those  authors  are  the 
lubjects  of  conversation,  th^  you  can  have  by  taking  your  knowledge 
)f  them  at  second-hand.  It  is  trusting  to  translations,  quotations,  and 
jpitomes,  that  makes  so  many  half  scholars  so  impertinently  wise.” 

Some  friend  may  offer  to  aid  you  by  translations,  or  by  books  inter- 
ined  with  a pen,  or  by  furnishing  you  with  mathematical  problems  all 
vrought  out.  Such  kindnesses  ought  to  be  shown  only  to  an  enemy, 
vhom  he  would  have  pursued  by  his  vengeance  through  life.  They 
ire  the  greatest  cruelties  which  an  enemy  could  possibly  invent.  If  you 
iannot  stand  on  your  own  feet,  do  not  borrow  crutches,  which  will  be 
aken  from  you  soon,  and  which  will  effectually  prevent  you  from  ever 
laving  strength  to  walk  alone. 

5.  Expect  to  hecome  familiar  with  hard  study. 

Study,  which  is  hard  for  one  man,  is  easy  for  another.  "Not 
mly  so,  but  the  study  which  is  easy  for  you  to-day,  may  be 
ntolerably  irksome  at  another  time.  This  is  owing  to  the  difficulty 
)f  confining  the  attention  closely.  The  health  being  the  same,  study 
N^ould  at  all  times  be  equally  agreeable,  had  we  the  same  command 
>ver  the  attention.  But  who  that  has  tried  it,  does  not  know  how 
nuch  easier  it  is  to  study  on  a cold,  stormy  day  in  winter,  when  every- 
‘hing  without  is  repulsive,  than  on  the  warm,  bright  day  of  spring, 
\rhen  all  nature  seems  to  invite  you  out,  and  when  the  soul  seems  to 
Lisdain  and  rebel  against  the  restraints  of  study?  You  must  make 
^our  calculations  to  study  many  hours,  and  at  many  seasons  when  it 
3 disagreeable — when  the  mind  feels  feeble,  and  the  body  is  languid,  or 
3 even  in  pain.  ‘ ‘ Other  things  may  be  seized  on  by  might,  or  pur- 
hased  with  money ; but  knowledge  is  to  be  gained  only  by  study.  ’ ’ 

So  great  is  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  confine  the  attention,'  that 
nen  who  have  by  some  unexpected  providence  lost  their  sight,  have 
elt  willing  to  exchange  all  that  is  beautiful,  lovely,  and  cheering, 
vhich  the  eye  drinks  in,  for  the  increased  power  over  the  attention 
^hich  this  loss  gave  them.  The  truly  great  President  Dwight  used  to 
onsider  the  loss  of  his  eyes  a great  blessing  to  him,  inasmuch  as  it 
trengthened  the  power  of  attention,  and  compelled  him  to  think, 
fou  may  point  to  men,  and  say,  that  “this  and  that  distinguished 
nan  was  not  celebrated  for  scholarship,  or  anything,  unless  for  stupid- 
ly, in  his  younger  days.  He  had  no  appointment  in  college — no  rank 
s a scholar.”  Hot  unlikely.  But  be  sure  of  one  thing;  and  that  is, 
le  never  became  distinguished  without,  some  time  or  other,  passing; 
hrough  a severe  course  of  dryj  hard  study.  Ho  might  have  omitted' 


DILIGENT  OBSERVATION, 


60 


[CH.  III. 


this  when  young ; but,  if  so,  the  task  was  harder  when  he  did  under- 
take to  perform  it.  But  undertake  it  he  must,  and  he  did. 

• 

“Pater  ipse  colendi 

Haud  facilem  esse  viam  voluit,  priniusque  per  artem 
Movit  agros,  curis  acuens  mortalia  corda.” 


The  remarks  of  the  lamented  Wirt  should  be  treasured  up  by  every 
student.  A few  of  the  points  upon  which  he  touches  are  so  much  to 
my  purpose,  that  I should  do  injustice  to  my  reader  not  to  quote  them.  I 
Take  it  for  granted  that  there  is  no  excellence  withont  great  labor.  No 
mere  aspirations  for  eminence,  however  ardent,  will  do  the  business. 
Wishing,  and  sighing,  and  imagining,  and  dreaming  of  greatness,  will 
never  make  you  great.  If  you  would  get  to  the  mountain’s  top,  on 
which  the  temple  of  fame  stands,  it  will  not  do  to  stand  still,  looking 
and  admiring,  and  wishing  you  were  there.  You  must  gird  up  your  , 
loins,  and  go  to  work  with  all  the  vidfc^O'^nitable  energy  of  Hannibal  j 
scaling  the  Alps.  Laborious  study  and  diligent  observation  of  the  \ 
world,  are  both  indispensable  to  the  a*i}«imnent  of  eminence.  By  the 
former,  you  must  make  yourself  master  of  all  that  is  known  of  science 
and  letters ; by  the  latter,  you  must  know  man  at  large,  and  particu- 
larly the  character  and  genius  of  your  own  countrymen.  We  cannot 
all  be  Franklins,  it  is  true;  but,  by  imitating  his  mental  habits  and 
unwearied  industry,  we  may  reach  an  eminence  we  should  never  other- 
wise attain.  Nor  would  he  have  been  the  Franklin  he  was,  if  he  had 
permitted  himself  to  be  discouraged  by  the  reflection  that  we  cannot 
all  be  Newtons.  It  is  our  business  to  make  the  most  of  our  own  talents 
and  opportunities ; and,  instead  of  discouraging  ourselves  by  compari- 
sons and  imposibilities,  to  believe  all  things  imaginary  possible,  as, 
indeed,  almost  all  tilings  are,  to  a spirit  bravely  and  firmly  resolved. 
Franklin  was  a fine  model  of  a practical  man,  as  contra-distinguished 
from  a visionary  theorist,  as  men  of  genius  are  very  apt  to  be.  He  was 
great  in  the  greatest  of  all  good  qualities — sound,  strong,  common  sense. 
A mere  bookworm  is  a miserable  driveller;  and  a mere  genius,  a thing 
of  gossamer,  fit  only  for  the  winds  to  sport  with.  Direct  your  intel- 
lectual efforts  princpally  to  the  cultivation  of  the  strong,  masculine  quali- 
ties of  the  mind.  Learn  (I  repeat  it)  to  think — think  deeply,  com^pre-  , 
hensiwely,  powerfully;  and  learn  the  simple,  nervous  language  which  is 
appropriate  to  that  kind  of  thinking.  Bead  the  legal  and  political 
arguments  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  and  those  of  Alexander  Hamil-  _ 
ton.  Read  them,  study  thsm;  and  observe  with  what  an  omnipotent . 
sweep  of  thought  they  range  over  the  whole  field  of  every  subject  they  | 
take  in  hand — and  that  with  a scythe  so  ample  and  so  keen,  that  not  a \ 


CH.  ni.] 


EXAMPLE  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


61 


straw  is  left  standing  behind  them.  Brace  yourself  up  to  these  great 
efforts.  Strike  for  this  giant  character  of  mind,  and  leave  pettiness  and 
frivolity  to  trifiers.  It  is  perfectly  consistent  with  these  Herculean  habits 
of  thinMng,  to  be  a laborious  student,  and  to  know  all  that  books  can 
teach.  Y ou  must  never  be  satisfied  with  the  surface  of  things ; probe  them 
to  the  bottom,  and  let  nothing  go  till  you  understand  it  as  thoroughly 
as  your  powers  will  enable  you.  Seize  the  moment  of  excited  curiosity 
on  any  subject,  to  solve  your  doubts;  for,  if  you  let  it  pass,  the  desire 
may  never  return,  and  you  may  remain  in  ignorance.  The  habits 
t\rhich  T have  been  recommending  are  not  merely  for  coUege,  but  for 
Ife.  Franklin’s  habits  of  constant  and  deep  excogitation  clung  to  him 
:o  his  latest  hour.  Form  these  habits  now.  Look  at  Brougham,  and 
jee  what  a man  can  do,  if  well  armed  and  well  resolved.  With  a load 
Df  professional  duties  that  would  of  themselves  have  been  appalling  to 
Le  most  of  our  countrymen,  he  stood  nevertheless,  at  the  head  of  his 
Darty  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and,  at  the  same  time,  set  in  motion 
ind ' superintended  various  primary  schools,  and  various  periodical 
vorks,  the  most  instructive  and  useful  that  have  ever  issued  from  the 
British  press,  for  which  he  furnished,  with  his  own  pen,  some  of  the 
nost  masterly  contributions,  and  yet  found  time  not  only  to  keep  pace 
vith  the  progress  of  the  arts  and  scieuces,  but  to  keep  at  the  head  of 
hose  whose  peculiar  and  exclusive  occupations  these  arts  and  sciences 
vere.  There  is  a model  of  industry  and  tcsefulness  worthy  of  all  your 
)mulation.” 

Under  this  head,  I would  add,  that  he  who  expects  to  disciphne  his 
nind  by  hard  study,  and  to  build  up  the  mind  by  the  habit  of  severe 
hinking,  will  not  be  the  man  to  quarrel  with  what  he  studies.  How 
)ften  do  we  hear  students  complaining  that  they  are  put  to  studies 
vhich  can  be  of  no  possible  use  to  them  in  after  life ! One  is  to  be  a 
nerchant:  why  should  he  be  drilled  in  Latin  and  Greek  for  years? 
Another  is  to  study  medicine ; and  why  should  he  be  poring  over  conic 
ections  for  months?  Multitudes  complain  th^t  their  instructors  un- 
lerstand  their  business  so  poorly,  that  the  very  things  for  which  they 
vill  never  have  any  use,  are  forced  upon  them  as  studies ! Little  do 
luch  complainers  understand  the  object  of  an  education.  Keep  it  in 
nind,  that  the  great  object  of  study  is  to  fit  the  mind  to  be  an  instru- 
nent  of  usefulness  in  life.  You  are  now  upon  a dry,  hard,  uninterest- 
ng  study.  It  contains  not  a single  thing  which  you  can  ever  use 
lereafter.  Be  it  so.  But  if  you  can  compel  your  mind  to  take  hold 
nd  master  that  dry,  hard,  uninteresting  study,  you  are  fitting  it  to 
>bey  you  through  life,  and  at  any  time  to  do  what  you  bid  it  to  do. 

; Suppose  your  teachers  should  put  you  to  studying  magic — I d-O  pot 


62 


STUDY  ENLARGES  THE  MIND. 


[CH.  IIL 


pretend  that  it  would  be  the  best  possible  study — but  if  they  should, 
take  hold  and  study  it  without  quarrelling  with  it.  There  may  be 
nothing  in  magic  which  can  be  of  any  practical  use  in  life;  but  perhaps 
it  may  do  you  good  to  know  that  there  is  nothing  useful  in  it,  and,  at 
any  rate,  the  discipline  of  mind  acquired  by  wading  through  an  unin- 
teresting study  is  of  immense  value.  It  will  be  time  enough  to  study 
such  things  as  you  propose  to  use,  when  you  have  your  mind  fitted  to 
master  them,  and  when  they  are  needed.  The  chancellor  of  the  state 
of  l^ew  York  was  noticed,  one  summer,  morning  after  morning,  on  a 
beautiful  young  horse,  accompanying  the  railroad  cars,  as  far  as  he 
could  go,  before  they  left  him  by  their  superior  speed.  The  horse  was 
afraid  and  unruly,  and  somewhat  dangerous  at  first,  but  grew  more  and 
more  gentle.  Why  did  he  do  this?  Not  for  pleasure — not  to  aid  him 
in  the  severe  duties  of  his  responsible  station — not  because  he  delighted 
to  travel  on  that  road,  but  to  discipline  his  horse,  and  fit  it  for  jutiirc 
service. 

You  study  geometry  to-day.  Perhaps  your  life  may  be  so  busy, 
and  your  time  so  occupied  hereafter,  that  you  may  forget  every  prop- 
osition, and  nothing  but  the  name  of  the  book  may  remain  to  you. 
But  Plato,  and  every  other  man  who  has  studied  geometry,  will  tell 
you  that  it  Avill  strengthen  your  mind,  and  enable  it  to  think  Avitb 
precision.  Geography  and  chronology  are  not  now  needed,  but  will 
soon  be,  in  order  to  trace  philosophy  through  all  her  branches,  in  order 
to  acquire  a distinct  and  accurate  idea  of  history,  and  to  judge  of  the 
propriety  of  the  allusions  and  comparisons  everyAvhere  meeting  you  in 
the  works  of  genius.  Philosophy  seems  to  open  the  mind,  and  to  give 
it  eyes,  like  the  Avings  of  the  cherubim,  in  Ezekiel’s  vision,  within  and 
without  it.  It  subjects  all  nature  to  our  command,  and  carries  our 
conceptions  up  to  the  Creator.  The  mind  is  liberalized  b}^  every  such , 
study,  and  Avithout  these,  it  can  never  become  really  great  or  tasteful. 

While  I Avould  urge  you  to  hard  study  and  severe  application,  each 
being  a sine  qua  non  to  success,  you  must,  at  the  same  time,  feel  sure 
that  a steady  persevering  course  of  study  will  certainly  place  you  on 
an  eminence.  But  press  ouAvard  in  a steady  course  of  daily  applica- 
tion. A beautiful  Avriter,  with  great  vivacity  and  spirit  says,  “The 
most  usual  Avay,  among  young  men  Avho  have  no  resolution  of  their 
OAvn,  is,  first  to  ask  one  friend’s  advice,  and  to  folio av  it  for  some  time; 
then  to  ask  advice  of  another  and  turn  to  that ; so  of  a third,  still  un- 
steady, always  changing.  HoAvever,  be  assured  that  every  change  of; 
this  nature  is  for  the  worse.  People  may  tell  you  of  your  being  unfit 
for  some  peculiar  occupations  in  life ; but  heed  them  not.  WhateA^er 
employment  you  follow  with  perseverance  and  assiduity,  AviU  be  found 


m.  lit.]  WB  MUST  CEUATE  CIRCUMSTANCES.  63 

fit  for  you ; it  v^ill  be  your  support  in  youth,  and  comfort  in  age.  In 
learning  the  useful  part  of  every  profession,  very  moderate  abilities  will 
suffice : even  if  the  mind  be  a little  ballasted  with  stupidity,  it  may,  in 
this  case,  be  useful.  Great  abilities  have  always  been  less  serviceable 
to  the  possessors  than  moderate  ones.  Life  has  been  compared  to  a 
race ; but  the  allusion  still  improves,  by  observing  that  the  most  swift 
are  ever  the  least  manageable.” 

Henderson  gives  an  interesting  account  of  his  meeting  with  an  Ice- 
lander, a poor  man,  in  the  common  Avalks  of  life,  who,  to  liis  surprise, 
could  read  German  with  great  ease.  On  inquiring  how  he  came  to 
understand  the  German  language,  he  replied,  that  he  once  met  with  a 
German  book,  and  so  great  was  his  desire  to  know  what  it  contained, 
that  he  could  never  rest  till  he  had  acquired  the  language  so  as  read  it 
with  confidence. 

We  are  in  great  danger  of  being  willing  to  excuse  ourselves  from 
severe  study,  under  the  idea  that  our  circumstances  are  not  favorable. 
We  are  apt  to  fall  in  with  the  common  notion  that  men  are  made  by 
circumstances — that  they  are  called  forth,  and  their  characters  are  thus 
formed : and  that  almost  every  man  would  be  great,  and  decided,  and 
effective,  were  he  only  sufficiently  hedged  in  and  pressed  by  circum- 
stances. There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  men  are  naturally  and  prac- 
tically indolent,  and  that  they  need  powerful  stimulants  and  a heavy 
pressure,  to  awaken  their  powers  and  call  forth  exertions.  We  know 
that  most  men  accomplish  but  very  little.  But  would  they  under  any 
'circumstances?  Might  not  the  tables  be  turned,  and  might  we  not 
with  as  great  propriety  say,  and  perhaps  with  equal  truth,  that  men 
make  circumstances?  Was  it  the  circumstances  of  the  times,  or  the 
character  of  Hannibal,  that  enabled  him,  at  the  age  of  twenty-four,  to 
i guide  the  legions  of  Carthage  over  the  everlasting,  untrodden  Alps,  and 
1 thunder  at  the  gates  of  Home?  Look  at  John  Milton.  What  was 
I there  in  his  circumstances  to  press  him  into  greatness?  Shut  out  from 
The  light  of  heaven  by  blindness,  most,  in  his  situation,  would  have 
thought  that  they  did  well,  could  they  have  sung  a few  tunes,  and 
earned  their  bread  by  making  baskets.  But  Milton ! — he  has  thrown  a 
glory  over  his  age,  and  nation,  and  language,  which  can  be  impaired 
; only  by  blotting  the  world  out  of  existence. 

Look  at  Andrew  Fuller,  without  education,  without  opportunities, 

' without  circumstances  which  can,  in  any  way,  be  denominated  favora- 
j ble,  like  the  birch  rising  up  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock,  he  stood  far  above 
; the  age  and  the  generation  in  which  he  lived. 

But  the  cry  is,  “We  have  no  favorable  circumstances — no  opportun- 
: ities — no  tools ; we  can  do  nothing.  ’ ’ Can  do  nothing ! If  we  have 


SWAnT  ON  STUDY. 


[ca.  in. 


«4 

an3rthing  of  the  deathless  Koman  fire  within — alta  petens — aliquid 
immensum  infinihomque — we  have  ever  needed  help.  Many  a beauti^ 
ful  ship  has  sat  like  a swan  upon  the  dark-blue  waters,  which  never 
had  a tool  upon  her  sides,  save  the  axe,  the  auger,  and  the  knife. 
Hear  what  a master-spirit  says  on  this  point — a man  whose  example 
has  often  reproved  me,  and  thousands  like  me. 

“ If  a man  really  loves  study,  has  an  eager  attachment  to  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge,  nothing  but  peculiar  sickness  or  misfortunes 
will  prevent  his  being  a student,  and  his  possessing,  in  some  good 
degree,  the  means  of  study.  The  fact  is,  that  Avhen  men  complain  of 
want  of  time  for  study,  and  want  of  means,  they  only  show  that,  after 
all,  they  are  either  attached  to  some  other  object  of  pursuit,  or  have 
no  part  nor  lot  in  the  spirit  of  a student.  They  will  applaud  others,  it 
may  be,  who  do  study,  and  look  with  a kind  of  wonder  upon  their 
acquisitions ; but,  for  themselves,  they  cannot  spare  the  time  nor  ex- 
pense necessary  to  make  such  acquisitions;  or  they  put  it  to  the  ac- 
count of  their  humility,  and  bless  themselves  that  they  are  not 
amhitioiis.  In  most  of  all  these  cases,  however,  either  the  love  of  the 
world  or  genuine  laziness  lies  at  the  bottom.  Had  they  more  energy 
and  decision  of  character,  and  did  they  redeem  the  precious  moments, 
which  they  now  lose  in  laboriously  doing  nothing,  or  doing  nothing  to 
the  purpose  of  the  church,  they  might  open  all  the  treasures  of  the 
east  and  the  west,  and  have  them  at  their  disposal.  I might  safely 
promise  a good  knowledge  of  Hebrew  and  Greek  to  most  men  of  this 
sort,  if  they  Avould  dihgently  improve  the  time  that  they  now  abso- 
lutely throw  away,  in  ttie  course  of  three  or  four  years.  While  one 
man  is  deliberating  whether  he  bad  better  study  a language,  another 
man  has  obtained  it.  Such  is  the  difference  between  decisive,  ener- 
getic action,  and  a timid,  hesitating,  indolent  manner  of  pursuing  liter- 
ary acquisitions.  And,  what  is  worst  of  all,  in  this  temporizing  clas^ 
of  students,  is,  that  if  you  reason  with  them,  and  convince  them  that 
they  are  pursuing  a wrong  course,  that  conviction  operates  no  longer 
than  until  the  next  paroxysm  of  indolence,  or  of  a worldly  spirit, 
comes  on.  These  siren  charmers  lull  every  energetic  power  of  the 
mind  to  sleep.  The  mistaken  man,  who  listens  to  their  voice,  finds 
himself,  at  the  age  of  forty,  just  where  he  was  at  thirty.  At  fifty,  his 
decline  has  already  begun.  At  sixty,  he  is  umversally  regarded  with 
indifference,  which  he  usually  repays  with  misanthropy.  And  if  he 
has  the  misfortune  to  live  until  he  is  seventy,  every  body  is  uneasy 
because  he  is  not  transferred  to  a better  world.”* 


* Professor  Stuart- 


en.  in.] 


HABIT  OF  REVIEWING. 


65 


6.  Remember  that  the  great  secret  of  being  successful  cmd  accurate  as 
a student.^  next  to  perseverance is,  the  constant  habit  of  reviewing. 

I have  already  spoken  of  the  memory.  I would  here  say  a word  as 
to  its  use  in  your  definite  studies.  Have  you  never  tried  to  banish  a 
thought,  or  a train  of  thought,  from  your  memory,  and  could  not? 
Have  you  never  tried  to  recall  some  idea,  or  some  train  of  thought, 
and,  the  more  you  tried,  the  more  you  seemed  to  forget  it  ? The  rea- 
son is,  that  the  memory  loves  freedom,  and  disdains  to  be  forced. 
The  correct  path,  then  in  which  to  tread,  is  to  cultivate  the  memory 
as  much  as  possible,  without  weakening  it  by  restraint.  It  loves  to 
try  its  powers  spontaneously.  Little  children  will  frequently  learn  a 
long  list  of  Latin  or  Greek  words,  without  designing  it,  merely  by 
hearing  others  repeat  them.  And  I have  known  an  ignorant  Catholic, 
who  could  repeat  the  most  of  the  Lord’s  Prayer,  and  a good  part  of 
the  Missal,  all  in  Latin,  without  knowing  what  it  meant,  simply  by 
hearing  it  frequently  repeated.  Those  who  have  been  most  successful 
in  fixing  language  in  the  memory,  have  uniformly  done  it  by  repeated 
readings  of  the  thing  to  be  retained.  In  committing  grammar,  for 
example,  to  memory,  you  should  not  attempt  to  confine  the  mind  to  it 
too  long  at  a time,  but  bend  the  whole  attention  to  it  while  you  do 
study,  and  repeat  the  process  often:  repeat  the  lesson  aloud,  that  it 
may  come  to  the  mind  through  the  ear,  as  well  as  through  the  eyes, 
and  then  use  the  pen,  and,  laying  aside  the  book,  write  it  all  out.  In 
[this  process,  you  use  the  eyes,  the  ears,  and  also  give  the  mind  an 
lopportunity  to  dwell  upon  every  letter,  and  syllable,  and  sound.  This 
iwiU  be  slow,  at  first,  but  it  will  effectually  do  the  thing;  it  will  make 
'you  thorough,  and  soon  give  the  courage  of  the  war-horse.  No  new 
jencounters  will,  in  the  least,  appal  you.  The  great  dilhculty  in  com- 
mitting grammar,  consists  in  the  similarity  of  the  words  and  things 
that  are  brought  together.  Similarity  confuses  the  mind.  If  you 
were  to  go  into  a jeweller’s  shop,  and  see  a card  containing  twenty 
watches,  though  each  had  a different  name,  yet  the  next  day  you  could 
not  tell  one  from  another.  But  suppose  you  go  for  five  days  in  suc- 
cession, and  examine  four  watches  each  day.  The  jeweller  carefully 
points  out  the  difference.  This  is  a common  watch : he  shows  you  its 
mechanism,  and  all  its  parts.  That  is  a patent  lever:  he  shows  you 
how  it  differs  from  the  former.  The  third  is  a Lepine : its  parts  are 
very  different  still.  The  next  is  a chronometer,  and  differs  widely 
from  any  you  have  yet  seen.  He  tells  you  the  properties  of  each  one, 
and  compares  them  .together.  The  second  day,  you  review  and  recall 
all  that  he  told  you,  and  you  fix  the  name,  the  character,  and  the 
properties  of  each  in  the  memory.  You  then  proceed  to  the  second 


66 


HABIT  OF  RBVlEWim. 


fcfl.  tt) 


four  You  go  through  the  same  process,  every  day  reviewing  wha 
you  learned  on  the  preceding  day.  At  the  end  of  five  days,,  you  cai 
repeat  from  memory,  the  name  and  powers  of  each  watch,  thou H 
before  the  process,  all  you  could  remember  was,  that  their  numl)e 
was  twenty,  and  that  they  stood  in  five  different  rows.  J^ow  stud’’ 
the  grammar  with  the  same  precision,  and  in  the  same  manner  am 
the  memory  will  not  complain  that  she  is  confused,  and  cannot  retail 
what  you  ask  her  to  keep. 

But  what  I have  said  of  reviewing,  pertains  more  especially  to  tlu 
lessons  which  you  prepare  for  the  recitation-room,  and  which  are  U 
be  reviewed  and  repeated  at  your  room.  The  indefatigable  Wytten 
bach  and  few  could  siDeak  more  decidedly  from  experience — says  tha 
this  practice  will  have  ‘Vm  incredible  effect  in  assisting  yonr  progress'^ 
but  he  adds,  ‘it  must  be  a real  and  thorough  review;  that  is  it  must  b( 
warn  and  again  repeated.  What  I choose  is  this:  that  every  day  th 
*.xac  qf  the  preceding  day  should  he  reviewed;  at  the  end  of  every  week 
the  task  of  the  week;  at  the  erid  of  every  months  the.  studies  of  th 
month;  %n  addition  to  which  this  whole  course  should  be  gone  over  aqam 
and  again  ^during  the  vacation^  Again;  this  great  scholar  tells  hh 
pupils,  “ You  will  not  fail  to  devote  one  hour,  or  part  of  an  hour  ai 
least,  every  day,  to  these  studies,  on  the  same  plan,  which  yot 
have  followed  under  me;  for  there  is  no  business,  no  vocation  whatever, 
w/nch  will  not  jpermit  a man  who  has  an  inclination,  to  give  a little 
time  every  day  to  the  studies  of  his  youthY  I would  add,  that  ont 
quarter  of  an  hour  every  day  de\roted  to  reviewing,  will  not  only 
keep  all  that  a man  has  ever  gone  over  fresh  in  mind,  but  advance  him 
in  classical  study.  And  no  man  may  hope  to  become  a thorom>’h 
scholar  who  does  not  first  fix  this  habit  upon  himself.  It  will  be  irk- 
some at  first,  but  only  at  first.  “In  reading  and  studying  this  work, 
[the  Memorabilia  of  Xenophon],  I made  it  a rule  never  toliegin  a sec' 
tiqn  without  re-perusing  the  preceding  one,  nor  a chapter,  nor  book, 
without  going  over  the  preceding  chapter  and  book  a second  time; 
and  finally,  after  having  finished  the  Avork  in  that  manuer,  I agaiil 
read  the  whole  in  course.  This  AA^as  a labor  of  almost  three  months; 
but  such  constant  repetition  proved  most  beneficial  to  me.  The  effect 
of  repetition  seemed  to  be,  that  Avhen  I proceeded  from  a section  or  a 
chapter  Avhich  I had  read  tAvice,  to  a neAV  one,  I acquired  an  impulse 
Avhich  bore  me  along  through  all  opposing  obstacles;  like  a A^essel— to 
use  Cicero’s  comparison  in  a similar  case— Avhich,  having  once  received 
an  impulse  from  the  oar,  continues  her  course  even  after  the  marineig 
have  suspended  their  operations  to  propel  her.  ’ ’ 

Hoav  A^ery  different  this  from  the  practice  of  too  many!  That  paft 


BE  FAITHFUL  TO  APPOINTMENTS. 


67 


I cn.  III.] 

1 of  the  path  over  Avhich  they  have  passed,  is  covered  with  a thick  fog, 
j and  they  can  look  back  and  see  nothing  but  the  fog.  They  look  hw- 
ward,  and  the  atmosphere  is,  if  possible,  still  more  dim.  Tlie  road 
seems  long,  and  they  are  constantly  in  doubt  where  they  are.  x\ny 
one  can  travel  in  a fog,  but  with  no  comfort  or  certainty  at  the  time, 
and  with  no  impression  upon  the  memory  to  recall  at  some  futiu’e  time. 

“It  is  not  for  me  to  say  that  our  colleges  and  schools  should  insist 
on  such  reviews  in  the  recitation-room.  I would  probably  be  impi'ac- 
tible;  but  the  youth  ought  to  be  encouraged  and  urged  to  do  it  at  his 
room,  again  and  again.  We  are  told  that  there  is  a fine,  and  a more 
than  human  emotion  produced  by  reading  Domosthenes.  But  ^vho 
feels  it  ? Bead  over  the  first  and  second  Olynthiac,  and  do  you  feel 
it?  Bo;  nor  can  you,  tiil  you  have  reviewed  every  sentence,  and 
paragraph,  and  section,  again  and  again,  and  that,  probably  to  the 
twelfth  time.  Then,  if  you  are  faithful,  you  will  begin  decidedly  to 
feel  it.  You  cannot  but  feel  it.  The  influence  of  Plato’s  genius  is 
thought  to  be  distinctly  xelt  through  the  whole  world  of  letters.  Does 
the  student  see  anything  of  this  by  dipping  into  Plato?  Bo!  nor  can 
he  ever  do  so,  unless  he  train  himself  to  the  constant,  invariable  habit 
of  reviewing  every  sentence,  and  every  page,  and  that,  too,  many 
times.  Try  it  for  six  months,  and  my  poor  reputation  shall  be  staked 
on  the  result.  Get,  by  any  labor,  your  author’s  meaning  and  spirit. 
What  Quintilian  says  of  eloquence,  is  doubly  applicable  to  this  point : 
“Priina  est  eloquentiae  virtus,  perspicuitas ; et  quoquisque  ingenio 
minus  valet,  hoc  se  magis  attollere  et  dilatare  conaturut:  statura  breves 
in  digitos  eriguntur,  et  plura  infirmi  minantur.  ’ ’ 

7.  Be  faithful  infulflling  your  appointed  exercises. 

It  has  been  said  of  the  promising  and  lamented  Professor  Fisher, 
|that,  during  his  collegiate  course,  he  never  missed  a recitation  of  his 
class,  and  was  never  known  to  have  his  name  handed  in  by  the  moni- 
Itors.  And  all  those  men,  who  have  ever  become  influential  among 
as,  almost  without  exception,  began  to  be  distinguished  for  a consci- 
entious discharge  of  all  appointed  exercises,  while  obtaining  their  edu- 
eation.  You  may  feel  unwell  to-day;  you  have  over-eaten,  or  abused 
the  body  in  some  other  way ; and  now  you  have  but  little  courage  to 
master  your  lesson.  You  are  tempted  not  to  try  to  learn  it.  But  I 
[beg  of  you  not  to  lay  it  by.  You  will  lose  in  self-respect ; you  will 
leave  yielded  to  a temptation  that  will  often  assail  you ; you  will  have 
lowered  yourself  in  the  estimation  of  others.  Bo  call  of  friends,  no 
preparation  for  a society,  no  writing  to  friends,  should  ever  turn  you 
isiae  from  getting  that  lesson  which  is  shortly  to  be  recited.  The 
strong  language  of  the  late  venerable  President  Porter  ought  to  be 


BEST  THE  MIND  BY  VABIETY. 


[CH.  IIL 


hung  up  in  the  room  of  every  student.  It  is  the  testimony  of  one 
who  was  so  careful  and  so  judicious  an  observer  of  men  and  things, 
that  he  seldom  made  mistakes.  “Regular,  prescribed  exercises  have 
the  first  claim  on  your  time,  and  should  never  be  thrust  aside  by  in- 
cidental things.  It  should  be  a point  of  conscience  with  every  mem- 
ber of  this  seminary,  for  his  own  good  as  well  as  in  conformity  with 
his  sacred  promise  at  matriculation,  never  to  neglect  these  regular  ex- 
ercises, unless  disabled  by  Providence,  I was  detamed  hy  company^  is 
sometimes  offered  as  a reason  for  such  neglect,  and  it  may  be  a good 
reason,  mry  rarely;  but  in  my  own  case  as  a student,  from  twelve 
years  of  age,  through  college,  it  never  once  was  regarded  by  me  as  a rea- 
son for  such  neglect ; never  once  has  it  heen  so^  in  the  nineteen  years  of  my 
connection  with  this  seminary.  Take  the  catalogue  of  our  seminary 
from  the  beginning,  and  mark  the  men,  if  you  can,  on  that  honored 
list,  who,  since  they  have  left  us,  have  been  most  distinguished  for 
usefulness  as  ministers  and  missionaries,  and  also  the  men,  not  a few, 
who  have  been  elected  presidents  and  professors  in  colleges  and  theo- 
logical seminaries,  and  then  remember,  that  the  same  men  were  dis- 
tinguished for ^ punctuality^  and  industry,  and  conscientious  regard  to 
order ^ while  they  were  here.  ’ ’ 

These  remarks  apply  with  as  much  force  to  every  other  student  as  to 
the  student  in  theology.  ‘ ‘ Les  hommes  sont  a-peupres  tons  faits  de 
la  meune  manicwe;  et  ainsi  ce  qui  nous  a touche,  les  touchera  aussi.” 

8.  Learn  to  rest  the  mind.,  hy  variety  in  your  studies.,  rather  than  hy 
entire  cessation  from  study. 

Few  can  confine  the  mind  down  to  severe  thought,  or  to  one  study, 
long  at  a time,  and  therefore  most,  when  they  relax,  throw  the 
thoughts  loose,  and  do  not  try  to  save  them.  You  are  studying 
Homer,  or  algebra,  for  example.  You  apply  yourself  some  two  or 
three  hours  at  a time.  Your  body  becomes  weary,  and  the  mind  is 
jaded.  You  stop  and  throw  aside  your  books,  and  rest,  perhaps,  quite 
as  long  as  you  have  been  studying..  How,  all  this  time  is  lost,  or 
nearly  so.  You  forget  that  the  mind  is  as  much  refreshed  by  variety 
as  by  idleness.  When  you  lay  aside  your  algebra,  take  up  your  Livy 
or  Tacitus,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  that  it  is  a refreshment, 
as  you  review  your  last  lesson.  Or  make  those  minutes  in  your  com- 
monplace book  of  what  you  last  read:  or  turn  your  thoughts  and 
ponder  over  the  subject  of  your  next  composition.  You  may  save  a 
vast  amount  of  time  in  this  way. 

We  wonder  how  our  fathers,  and  how  the  students  of  Germany,  at 
the  present  time,  can  study  sixteen  hours  a day.  They  never  could  do 
jt;5  were  it  not  that  they  pursue  one  study  till  the  mind  reluctates ; they 


CH.  IV.] 


READING. 


then  turn  to  another  by  which  the  mind  is  relieved,  and  at  once  be- 
comes buoyant.  This  is  the  difference  between  him  who  loses  no  time, 
and  him  who  loses  very  much.  The  men  who  accomphsh  so  much  in 
life,  are  those  who  practice  on  this  plan.  This  will  account  for  the 
fact,  that  the  same  man  will  not  unfrequently  hold  several  offices  which 
require  talents  and  efforts  seemingly  incompatible  with  each  other,  and 
yet  promptly  execute  the  duties  of  all.  He  is  thus  continually  busy 
and  continually  resting. 

In  this  way  the  justly  distinguished  Dr.  Good,  long  before  he  was 
forty  years  old,  amid  the  incessant  and  anxious  duties  of  a laborious 
profession,  had  gained  prizes  by  writing  essays;  had  mastered  at  least 
eleven  different  languages;  had  aided  in  making  a Universal  Diction- 
ary in  twelve  volumes;  had  written  his  celebrated  “Study  of  Medi- 
cine;” and  was  constantly  writing  and  translating  poetry.  His 
“Book  of  Nature,”  ^vill  give  the  reader  an  admiring  conception  of  the 
variety  and  the  accuracy  of  his  attainments.  Instead  of  being  thrown 
into  confusion  by  such  a variety  and  pressure  of  occupations,  he  carried 
them  all  forward  simultaneously,  and  suffered  none  to  be  neglected,  or 
but  half  executed.  His  practice  was  like  that  of  the  indefatigable  but 
somewhat  eccentric  Dr.  Clarke,  who  said,  “I  have  lived  to  know  the 
great  secret  of  human  happiness  is  this — never  suffer  your  energies  to 
stagnate.  The  old  adage  of  ‘too  many  irons  in  the  fire,’  conveys  an 
abominable  lie.  You  cannot  have  too  many;  poker,  tongs,  and  all — - 
keep  them  all  going.”  This  habit  of  keeping  the  mind  employed,  will 
soon  destroy  the  common  habit  of  revery.  The  soul  will  be  too  busy 
for  re  very;  and  then,  if  she  gains  nothing  by  change  of  occupations, 
by  way  of  acquisition,  she  gains  the  satisfaction  that  she  is  not  wan- 
dering off  on  forbidden  ground. 


IV. 


BEADING. 

The  genius  of  Shakespeare  has  shed  a glory  around  the  name  ot 
Brutus,  which  the  iron  pen  of  history  cannot  do  away.  The  historian 
and  the  poet  are  certainly  greatly  at  variance  in  regard  to  him : the 
latter  has  made  him  so  amiable  and  exalted  a character,  that  we  feel 
unwilling  to  know  the  truth  about  him.  I am  not  now  to  act  as  um- 
pire between  them;  but  there  is  one  spot  where  we  see  him  in  the  same 


70 


OBJECTS  ATTAINED  BT  BEADING. 


tCH.  IV. 


light,  both  in  history  and  in  poetry.  It  is  this.  The  night  before  the 
celebrated  battle  of  Pharsalia,  which  was  to  decide  the  fate  of  the 
known  world,  Brutus  was  in  his  tent  reading.,  and  making  notes  from 
his  author  with  the  pen ! 

The  elder  Pliny  seldom  sat  down  to  eat  a meal  without  having  some 
one  read  to  him ; and  he  never  travelled  without  having  one  or  more 
books  with  him,  and  conveniences  for  making  extracts  or  memoranda. 

The  amiable  Petrarch  never  felt  a happy  day,  if,  during  it,  he  did 
not  read  or  write,  or  do  both.  One  of  his  friends,  fearing  it  woidd 
injure  his  health,  begged  him  to  lend  him  the  key  of  his  library. 
Petrarch,  without  knowing  the  design,  granted  it.  His  friend  lockkl 
it  up,  and  forbade  him  to  read  anything  for  ten  days.  The  poet  con- 
sented with  great  reluctance.  The  first  day  seemed  longer  than  a 
year ; the  second  produced  a hard  headache  from  morning  till  night ; 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  he  was  evidently  in  a fever.  His 
friend,  touched  with  his  situation,  restored  the  key,"  and  with  it,  his 
health  and  spirits. 

All  distinguished  men  have  been  given  to  the  habit  of  constant  read- 
ing; and  it  is  utterly  impossible  to  arrive  at  any  tolerable  degree  of 
, distinction  without  this  habit,  ‘‘ Beading, ” says  Bacon,  “makes  2,  full 
, man;  conversation  a ready  writing  an  exact  That  which  ' 

he  means  hjftdl  can  never  be  attained,  except  by  an  extensive  and 
thorough  acquaintance  with  books.  No  genius,  no  power  of  inventing  . 
and  creating  thoughts,  can  ever  supply  a deficiency  in  this  respect, 
he  mightiest  mind  that  was  ever  created,  could,  perhaps,  here  and 
there,  strike  out  a road ; but  who  would  wish  to  spend  one’s  self  in 
beating  about  to  discover  a path,  and  even  to  make  it,  when  the  united 
minds  of  the  generations  who  have  gone  before  us  have  done  this  for 
him  ? In  order  to  have  a judgment  sound  and  correct,  you  must  travel 
through  the  history  of  other  times,  and  be  able  to  compare  the  present  i 
with  the  past.  To  have  the  mind  vigorous,  you  must  refresh  it,  and 
strengthen  it,  by  a continued  contact  with  the  mighty  dead  who  have 
gone  away,  but  left  their  imperishable  thoughts  behind  them.  We  ' 
want  to  have  the  mind  continually  expanding,  and  creating  new 
thoughts,  or  at  least  feeding  itself  upon  manly  thoughts.  The  food  is  to 
the  blood,  which  circulates  through  your  veins,  what  reading  is  to  the 
mind:  and  the  mind  that  does  not  love  to  read,  may  despair  of  ever 
doing  much  in  the  world  of  mind  which  it  would  affect.  You  can  no 
more  be  the  “full  man”  whom  Bacon  describes,  without  reading,  than 
you  can  be  vigorous  and  healthy  without  any  new  nourishnment. 
It  would  be  no  more  reasonable  to  suppose  it,  in  the  expressive  and 
beautiful  language  of  Porter,  ‘ ‘ than  to  suppose  that  the  Hississippj 


ca.  iv.j 


WB  SHOtfLD  MEAD  BELlBEMATELt. 


might  roll  on  its  flood  of  waters  to  the  ocean,  though  all  its  tributary 
streams  were  cut  off,  and  it  were  replenished  only  by  the  occasional 
drops  from  the  clouds.”  Some  will  read  works  of  the  imagination,  or 
what  is  called  the  light  literature  of  the  day,  while  that  which  em- 
braces solid  thought  is  irksome.  The  Bishop  of  Winchester  (Hoadley) 
said  that  he  could  never  look  into  Butler’s  Analogy  without  having  his 
head  ache — a book  which  Queen  Caroline  told  Mr.  Sale  she  read  every 
day  at  breakfast.  Young  people  are  apt — and  to  this  students  are 
continually  tempted — to  read  only  for  amusement.  Pope  says,  that, 
from  fourteen  to  twenty,  he  read  for  amusement  alone ; from  twenty 
to  twenty-seven,  for  improvement  and  instruction;  that  in  the  former 
period,  he  wanted  only  to  know,  and  in  the  second,  endeavored  to 
judge. 

The  object  of  reading  may  be  divided  into  several  branches.  The 
student  reads  for  relaxation  from  more  severe  studies ; he  is  thus  re- 
freshed, and  his  spirits  are  revived.  He  reads  for  facts  in  the  history 
and  experience  of  his  species,  as  they  hved  and  acted  under  different 
circumstances.  From  these  facts  he  draws  conclusions ; his  views  are 
enlarged,  his  judgment  corrected,  and  the  experience  of  former  ages, 
and  of  all  times,  becomes  his  own.  He  reads,  chiefly,  probably,  for 
information ; to  store  up  knowledge  for  future  use : and  he  wishes  to 
classify  and  arrange  it,  that  it  may  be  ready  at  his  call.  He  reads 
for  the  sake  of  style — to  learn  how  a strong,  nervous,  or  beautiful 
writer  expresses  himself.  The  spirit  of  a writer  to  whom  the  world 
has  bowed  in  homage,  and  the  dress  in  which  the  spirit  stands  arrayed, 
is  the  object  at  which  he  must  anxiously  look.  ' 

It  is  obvious,  then,  that,  in  attaining  any  of  these  ends,  except,  per- 
haps, that  of  amusement,  reading  should  he  jperformed  very  slowly  and 
deliberately.  You  will  usually,  and,  indeed,  almost  invariably.  And 
that  those  who  read  a great  multitude  of  books  have  but  little  knowl- 
edge that  is  of  any  value.  A large  library  has  justly  been  denominated 
a learned  luxury — not  elegance — much  less  utility.  A celebrated  French 
author  was  laughed  at  on  account  of  the  poverty  of  his  library.  ‘ ‘ Ah,  ’ ’ . 
replied  he,  “when  I want  a book,  I make  it!”  Kapid  readers  gener- 
ally are  very  desultory ; and  a man  may  read  much,  and  know  but 
very  little.  ‘ ‘ The  helluo  lihrorum  and  the  true  scholar  are  two  very 
different  characters.  ’ ’ One  who  has  a deep  insight  into  the  nature  of 
man,  says  that  he  never  felt  afraid  to  meet  a man  who  has  a large 
library.  It  is  the  man  who  has  but  few  books,  and  who  thinks  much, 
whose  mind  is  the  best  furnished  for  intellectual  operations.  It  will 
not  be  pretended,  however,  that  there  are  not  many  exceptions  to  this 
remark.  But,  with  a student,  in  the  morning  of  life,  there  are  no  ex- 


FORMER  SCARCITY  OF  BOOKS. 


[CH.  IV. 


ceptions.  If  he  would  improve  by  his  reading,  it  must  be  very  delib- 
erate. Can  a stomach  receive  any  amount  or  kind  of  food,  hastily 
thrown  into  it,  and  reduce  it,  and  from  it  extract  nourishment  for  the 
body?  IS'ot  for  any  length  of  time.  N^either  can  the  mind  any  easier 
digest  that  which  is  rapidly  brought  before  it.  Seneca  has  the  same 
idea  in  his  own  simple,  beautiful  language — ‘ ‘ Distrahit  animum  librorum 
multitude: — Fastidientis  stomachi  multa  degustare  quae  ubi  varia  sunt 
et  diversa,  inquinant,  non  alunt.” 

It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  the  ancients  had  not  a great  com- 
pensation for  the  fewness  of  their  books,,  in  the  thoroughness  with 
which  they  were  compelled  to  study  them.  A book  must  all  be  copied 
with  the  pen  to  be  owned ; and  he  who  transcribed  a book  for  the  sake 
of  owning  it,  would  be  likely  to  understand  it.  Before  the  art  of 
printing,  books  were  so  scarce,  that  ambassadors  were  sent  from  France 
to  Eome,  to  beg  a copy  of  “Cicero  de  Oratore,’^  and  Quintilian’s  “Insti-, 
tutes,”  &c.,  because  a complete  copy  of  these  works  was  not  to  be 
found  in  all  France.  Albert,  abbot  of  Gemblours,  with  incredible 
labor  and  expense,  collected  a library  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  vol-. 
umes  including  everything:  and  this  was  considered  a wonder  indeed. 
In  1491,  the  library  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  contained  parts  of  ; 
seventeen  books  on  various  subjects;  and,  on  his  borrowing  a Bible 
from  the  convent  of  St.  S within,  he  had  to  giv^e  a heavy  bond,  drawn 
up  with  great  solemnity,  that  he  Avould  return  it  uninjured.  If  anyone' 
gave  a book  to  a convent  or.  a monastery,  it  conferred  everlasting  sal- 
vation upon  him,  and  he  offered  it  upon  the  altar  of  God.  The 
convent  of  Bochester  every  year  pronounced  an  irrevocable  sentence 
of  damnation  on  him  who  should  dare  steal  or  conceal  a Latin  translation 
of  Aristotle,  or  even  obliterate  a title.  A¥hen  a book  was  purchased, , 
it  was  an  affair  of  such  consequence,  that  persons  of  distinction  were 
called  together  as  witnesses.  Previous  to  the  year  1300,  the  library  of- 
Oxford,  England,  consisted  only  of  a few  tracts,  which  were  carefully 
locked  up  in  a small  chest,  or  else  chained,  lest  they  should  escape;: 
and  at  the  commencement  of  the  14th  century,  the  royal  library  of 
France  contained  only  four  classics,  with  a few  devotional  works.  So 
great  was  the  privilege  of  owning  a book,  that  one  of  their  books  on 
natural  history  contained  a picture,  representing  the  Deity  as  resting 
on  the  Sabbath,  with  a book  in  his  hand,  in  the  act  of  reading ! It 
was  probably  no  better  in  earlier  times.  Knowledge  was  scattered 
to  the  four  winds,  and  truth  Avas  hidden  in  a Avell.  Lycurgus  and 
Pythagoras  were  obliged  to  traA^el  into  Eg37'pt,  Persia,  and  India,  in' 
order  to  understand  the  doctrine  of  the  metempsychosis.  Solon  and ; 
Plato  had  to  go  to  Egypt  for  what  they  kneAv.  Herodotus  and  Strabo’ 


CH.  IV.] 


BAD  BOOKS. 


73 


were  obliged  to  travel  to  collect  their  history,  and  to  construct  their 
geography  as  they  traveled.  Few  men  pretended  to  own  a library, 
and  he  was  accounted  truly  favored  who  owned  half-a-dozen  volumes. 
And  yet,  with  all  this  scarcity  of  books,  there  were  in  those  days 
scholars  who  greatly  surpassed  us.  We  cannot  write  poetry  like 
Homer,  nor  history  like  Thucydides.  We  have  not  the  pen  which 
Aristotle  and  Plato  held,  nor  the  eloquence  with  which  Demosthenes 
thrilled.  They  surpassed  us  in  painting  and  in  sculpture.  Their  books 
were  but  few.  But  those  were  read,  as  Juvenal  says,  ten  times  “decier 
repetita  placebunt.”  Their  own  resources  were  tasked  to  the  utmost, 
and  he  who  could  not  draw  from  his  own  fountain,  in  vain  sought  for 
neighbors,  from  whose  wells  he  could  borrow. 

How  very  different  with  us!  We  read  without  measure,  and  almost 
without  profit.  “Aliud  enim  est  scire,  aliud  sapere.  Sapiens  est,  qui 
didicit  non  omnia,  sed  ea  quae  ad  veram  felicitatem  pertinent,  et  iis 
quae  didicit  afficitur  ac  transfiguratus  est.  ’ ’ 

If,  at  the  close  of  any  given  year,  you  wiU  examine  the  register  of 
the  librarian  of  any  of  the  literary  societies  in  college,  you  will  find, 
almost  without  exception,  that  those  who  have  taken  out  most  books 
have  accomplished  least  in  preparing  the  mind  for  future  usefulness. 
It  is  a good  maxim,  in  regard  to  your  reading — Non  multa  sed  multum. 

Bewm^e  of  had  hooks.  Some  men  have  been  permitted  to  live  and 
employ  their  powers  in  writing  what  will  continue  to  pollute  and  de- 
stroy for  generations  after  they  are  gone.  The  world  is  flooded  vdth 
such  books.  They  are  permitted  to  lie  in  our  pathway  as  a part  of 
our  moral  discipline.  Under  the  moral  government  of  God,  Avhile  in 
this  state  of  probation,  we  are  to  be  surrounded  with  temptations  of 
every  kind.  And  never  does  the  spirit  of  darkness  rejoice  more,  than 
when  a gifted  mind  can  prostitute  itself,  not  merely  to  revel  in  sin 
itself,  but  to  adorn  and  conceal  a path  which  is  full  of  holes,  through 
I which  you  may  drop  into  the  chambers  of  death.  Books  could  be  ’ 
I named,  were  it  not  that  there  is  a possibility  that  even  the  information 
conveyed  in  naming  them  might  be  perverted  and  used  to  obtain  them, 

I which  seemingly,  could  not  be  excelled  by  all  the  talents  in  heU,  if  the 
object  were  to  pollute  and  ruin.  These  are  to  be  found  everywhere. 

I do  entreat  my  young  readers  never  to  look  at  one — never  to  open  one. 

1 They  will  leave  a stain  upon  the  soul  which  can  never  be  removed. 

! I have  known  these  books  secreted  in  the  rooms  of  students,  and  lent 
1 from  one  to  another.  They  are  to  be  found  too  frequently.  And  if 
; you  have  an  enemy,  whose  soul  you  would  visit  with  a heavy  ven- 
; geance,  and  whose  damnation  you  would  seal  up  for  the  eternal  world, 

! you  have  only  to  place  one  of  these  destroyers  in  his  hand.  You  have 


74 


ADVICE  ON  THE  CHOICE  OF  BOOKS. 


[CH.  IV. 


certainly  paved  the  way  to  the  abodes  of  death;  and  if  he  does  not 
travel  it  mth  hasty  strides,  you  have,  at  least,  laid  up  food  for  many 
da^of  remorse.  ^ xiictiV 

What  shall  be  sa,id  of  those  who  print  and  sell  such  works  to  the 
j’joung?— of  those  who  go  out  on  purpose  to  peddle  them?  They  are 
the  most  awful  scourges  with  which  a righteous  God  ever  visited  our 
world.  The  angel  of  death  can  sheath  his  sword,  and  stay  his  hand  in 
the  work  of  death.  But  these  wretches!  they  dig  graves  so  deen  that 
they  reach  into  heh.  They  blight  the  hopes  ^f  pfrfnts,  an^l  pouTmore 
than  seven  vials  of  woe  upon  the  family  whose  affections  are  bound 
up  in  the  son  who  is  thus  destroyed. 

In  connection  with  these  books,  allow  me  to  lift  up  a loud  voice 
imagination,  by  which  the  mind  is  at  once 
enfeebled,  and  the  heart  and  feelings  debased  and  polluted  Tt  is 
almost  mseparaWe  from  the  habit  of  revelry:  but,  in  this  life,  aheavier 
lyion  a young  man  than  that  of  possessing  a 
polluted  nnagmation.  The  leprosy  fills  the  whole  soul.  Time  only 
increases  it,  and  even  the  power  of  the  gospel  can  seldom  do  more 
^ without  subduing,  when  the  disease  is  once  fixed 

While  I thus  briefly  allude  to  these  wanderings  of  the  imagination, 
by  which  the  mind  is  debilitated,  the  soul  polluted  by  a stain  which 
tears  cannot  wash  out,  nor  the  deepest  repentance  fflly  do  away  I 
my  conscience  without  going  a step  further,  and  safiko-^ 
what  others  have,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  wished  to  say,  and  ought 
to  say,  but  which  no  one  has  had  the  courage  to  say,  in  tones  loud 
and  disti^t.  May  I entreat  the  young  man  who  reads  these  pages  not 
to  pass  the  folloiying  paragraph  without  reading  and  ponderino-  it* 

I have  chosen  to  r^k  the  charge  of  pedantry  rather  than  not  say  what 
J could  not  say  in  Enghsh. 

ultimas  excepta,  ut  frequenter  et  assidue,  consuetudinem  * * * 
effundendimanu  [Onanis  scelus,]  revel  are  possit.  Adolescentulos  quamplurimos  novi 
m smgulatos  dies,  m hao  re,  seipsos  turpaiites.  et  hoc,  per  annos  multos.  fnciteamenUim  ^ 
omnibus,  permagnum  est.  Casum  multorum  quos  de  rausa 
execrabile  sola,  vidi  occumbre  prematuras  morti,  gemui— aliqiios  in  aulisVademicis  et 
nonnullos  citissime  post  digressum  e collegio  et  ex  aliquovis  gradu  exornatos  Pluri’mi 
hanc  consuetudinem  defendere  conati  sunt,  quasi  instinctu  quodam  et  imperio  impulsi 
et  SIC  voluerunt  Deum  ipsiim  esse  hujus  stupri  auctorem.  “Hoc  praetexit  nomine 
Turpissima  simulatio!  Etlmici  ipsi,  luce  naturie  ducti,  cum  veSl Tuhis 
hanc  culpam  reprobaverunt.  v,  c.  “Veneri  servit— manus!  Hoc  nihil  esse  putas? 

i“pns,  quantum  vix  animo  concipis  ipse  tuo;  parce  solFcitaie 
manu.  Loevibus  in  pueris  plus  quam  h^c-peccat  ” i i i^oiiciiaio 

Deus,  quoad  hoc  crimen,  mentem  ejus  lucidissime  indicoavit.*  Indignatio  et  ira  Dei 

* Gen.  xxxviii.  9,  10;  1 Cor.  vi.  9;  2 Cor.  xii.  21;  Gal.  v.  19;  Epk  v.  3.  5. 


Oh.  IV.  j 


BYnON’8  WRITINGS 


75 


illis  adsequentur.  “Scimus  vero  judicium  Dei  esse  secundum  veritatem  adversus  eos 
qui  talia  agunt.  Putas  autem  hoc,  O qui  facis  ea  fore  ut  tu  effugias  judicium  Dei?” 

Memento  fructus  liujus  consuetudiiiis  esse — 

1.  Memoriam  esse  maxime  debilitatum; 

2.  Mentemesse  valde  dejectam  atque  stulte  imbecillem;* 

3.  Semina  letliiferi  morbi,  et  mortis  ij)S8e  in  corpore  sparsa;f 

4.  Omnia  quae  ad  animam  pertinent  mere  in  pejus; 

5.  Tribulationem  a Deo,  qui  te  aspicit  in  occulto,  certissime  venturam  fuisse.  Oculus 
ejus,  semper  vigilans,  te  spectat.  “Nam  omne  opus  Deus  ipse  adducet  in  judicium 
cum  Omni  re  occulta.”  “Nam  quae,  fiunt  ab  istis,  turpe  est  vel  dicere.”  Fuge,  fuge, 
provita,  pro  amima.  “Obsta  principiis.”  Hoc  scelus  vincere  non  poteris,  nisi  effu- 
giendo.  Quicunque  in  timore  Dei  versatur,  te  docebit,  “hie  viae  ad  sepulchrum,”  hie 
viae  descendentes  ad  penetralia  mortis. 

What  shall  be  said  of  such  works  as  those  of  Byron?  May  not  \ 
young  man  read  those  ? Can  he  not  learn  things  from  him  which  can- 
not be  learned  elsewhere?  I reply,  Yes,  just  as  you  would  learn,  while 
treading  in  burning  lava,  what  could  not  be  learned  elsewhere.  But 
would  the  knowledge  thus  obtained  be  worth  the  agony  of  the  fire, 
and  the  scars  which  would  remain  through  life?  It  is  breathing  the 
air  which  comes  up  from  a heated  furnace ; and  though  you  may  see 
a brightness  and  a glow  in  that  furnace  as  you  gaze  into  it,  which  is 
nowhere  else  to  be  found,  yet  you  will  feel  the  effects  of  what  you 
breathe  a long  time.  There  are  many  bright  spots  in  such  writings ; 
but  while  one  ray  of  pure  light  is  thrown  upon  the  soul,  it  must  find 
its  way  through  volumes  of  Egyptian  darkness.  There  are  beautiful 
pearls  in  the  slimy  bottom  of  the  ocean,  but  they  are  found  only  here 
and  there ; and  would  you  feel  it  worth  your  while  to  dive  after  them, 
if  there  were  many  probabilities  that  you  would  stick  and  die  in  the 
mud  in  which  they  are  imbedded,  or,  if  not,  that  you  certainly  shorten 
and  embitter  life,  in  the  process  of  diving  and  obtaining  them  ? 

Would  you  thank  a man  for  fitting  up  your  study,  and  adorning  it 
with  much  that  is  beautiful,  if,  at  the  same  time,  he  filled  it  with 
images  and  ghosts  of  the  most  disgusting  and  awful  description,  which 

* See  a thrilling  and  harrowing  chapter  in  Kush  on  Diseases'of  the  Mind.  Physicians 
testify,  that  probably  this  is  a greater  source  of  derangement  than  all  other  causes. 
The  very  intelligent  and  respectable  Superintendents  of  the  Insane  Hospitals  at  Wor- 
cester and  at  Hartford  will  say,  not  only  that  this  is  the  cause  of  bringing  many  of  their 
patients  there,  but  an  almost  insuperable  obstacle  in  the  way  of  their  recovery. 

f It  is  awfully  certain  too,  that  it  is  very  frequently  the  cause  of  sudden  death.  The 
apoplexy  wait  ^ hard  by,  as  God’s  executioner,  upon  this  sin.  May  not  the  pale-faced 
youth,  in  feeble  health,  frequently  imputing  his  disease  to  the  dyspepsia,  or  something 
like  it,  tremble  as  he  looks  off  the  abyss  on  which  he  has  placed  himself?  I do  hope 
what  I have  said  will  lead  many  to  fear  and  to  beware.  These  remarks  may  be  con- 
demnei  by  some;  but  I shall  have  two  sources  of  consolation — first,  that  I have  dis- 
charged a sacred  duty;  and,  secondly,  that  those  who  are  offended  are  those  for  whose 
special  benefit  these  remarks  are  made. 


76 


cautions  In  SELEOTINO  WORKS  OF  FICTION 


[cil.  i? 


u hT“s 


c.  tiiuugiii,  or  a poetic  image,  but,  as  you  stoop  to  pick  it 

up  chains  upon  you  a putrid  carcass  which  you  can  never  thiwv  off! 

I beheve  a single  page  may  be  selected  from  Byron,  which  C done 
more  hurt  tn  tha  i-nm/l  "-r  ’ -iiaa  uuiic 


more  hurt  to  the  inSd  ancf  heart  of  the  l^g ‘than  all  1'^"" 
have  ever  done  good.  But  he  will  qiiick-ly  p£s  from  not  L Indl 
doomed  to  be  exiled  from  the  libraries  of  all  virtuous  men  It  is  a 
essing  to  the  world  that  what  is  putrid  must  soon  pass  away  The 

meTwillToi'^  ^ time  in  horfor;  bu? 

wWh  tLv  f p yf,®  remove  even  tne  gallows  on 

ron  ^anH  %-nl  °TT  author  ever  read  By- 

YpJ  Moore,  Hume  and  Paine,  Scott,  Bulwer,  and  Cooper?’’ 
Yes,  he  has  read  them  all,  and  with  too  much  care.  He  knows  every 

Solemnly  declares  to  you  that  the 
only  good  which  he  is  conscious  of  ever  having  received  from  them  is 
a deep  impression  that  men  who  possess  talents  of  such  compass  aS 
power,  and  so  perverted  in  their  application,  must  meet  the  day  of 
judgment  under  a responsibility  which  would  be  cheaply  remove'd  by^ 

belie^/oTthl  r7°'’r  ■ undermine  or  to  crush  thl ' 

behef  of  the  Christian— those  who  wrote  to  show  how  they  could  revel 

m passion,  and  pour  out  their  living  scorn  upon  their  species— and  those  ^ 

S sWt  nf  men-have  come 

far  shoit  of  answering  the  great  end  of  existence  on  earth.  Talents 
and  influence  were  given  for  purpose  widely  different.  But  is  it  not 
nX*tnY*°  read  works  of  this  kind,  especially  those  whose  design  is 
only  to  amuse  and  awaken  the  interest  of  the  reader?  There  is  no 
more  necessity  than  there  is  to  be  acquainted  with  all  the  variety  of 

an*d  be  pleased,  and  the  body  stimulated,  i 

and  the  stomach  weakened.  Were  these  the  only  books  in  the  world 
the  case  would  be  different.  But  who  does  not  know  that  they  who  ' 

sol1ffrei!!^l^-n,^^'^'^+"°  of  fiction,  leave  a mass  of  most  valuable  and 

solid  readng  untouched  and  unknown?  When  you  have  read  and  ' 
igesre  all  that  is  really  valuable,  and  which  is  comprised  in  what  - 

nwf?®th^®  f ^ actually  been  i 

placed,  then  betake_  yourself  to  works  of  imagination.  But  can  you  i 

in  M have  the  powers  of  the  imagination  enlarged,  f 

and  the  mind  taught  to  soar?  Perhaps  so.  But  the  lectures  of' 
Chalniere  on  astronomy  vWll  do  this  to  a degree  far  beyond  all  that  the 
®“i5®i.  Mill  they  not  give  you  a command  of  words 
and  of  language  vyhich  shall  be  full,  and  chaste,  and  strong?  Perhaps 
so.  But  It  that  is  what  you  wish,  read  the  works  of  Edmund  Burke 


ea.  nr.] 


SIR  WALTER  SCOTT’S  WORKS. 


There  yoti  will  find  language,  gorgeous  at  times,  but,  for  copiousness 
and  wealth,  hardly  to  be  equalled  by  any  uninspired  pen.  He  is  a / 
master  on  this  subject;  and  I hope  no  one,  who  intends  to  strike  for  a j/ 
character  for  language  or  thoughts,  strength,  or  beauty,  will  ever  be 
trying  to  clothe  himself  with  the  puissance  of  a novel  when  he  can 
boast  the  language  of  Burke  as  being  his  mother  tongue. 

The  question  in  regard  to  works  of  fiction  usually  has  a definite  re- 
lation to  the  writings  of  Walter  Scott.  There  is  such  a magic  thrown 
around  him,-  that  it  cannot  be  but  we  are  safe  there.  Is  it  so  ? Be- 
cause the  magician  can  raise  mightier  spirits  than  other  magicians, 
and  throw  more  of  supernatural  light  about  him  than  others,  is  he 
therefore  the  less  to  be  feared?  Ho;  the  very  strength  of  the  spell 
should  warn  you  that  there  is  danger  in  putting  yourself  in  his  power. 
While  I have  confessed  that  I have  read  him — read  him  entire — in 
order  to  show  that  I speak  from  experience,  I cannot  but  say,  that  it 
would  give  me  the  keenest  pain  to  believe  that  my  example  would  be 
quoted,  small  as  is  its  influence,  after  I am  in  the  grave,  without  this 
solemn  protest  accompanying  it. 

How  shall  you  know  what  to  read? — a very  important  question ; for 
some  books  will  positively  injure,  if  they  do  not  destroy  you.  Others 
will  have  no  positive  good  effect;  and  from  all,  a tincture,  like  that 
left  upon  the  mind  by  the  company  you  keep,  will  be  left.  Do  not 
expect  to  read  all,  or  even  a small  part  of  what  comes  out,  and  is 
recommended,  too,  in  this  age  of  books.  You  take  up  a book,  and 
read  a chapter.  How  shall  you  know  whether  it  is  worth  your  read- 
ing, without  reading  it  through?  In  the  same  way  that  you  would 
know  whether  a cask  of  wine  was  good.  If  you  draw  one  glass,  or 
two,  and  find  them  stale  and  unpleasant,  do  you  need  to  drink  off  the 
whole  cask,  to  decide  that  you  do  not  want  it?  “I  have  somewhat 
else  to  do,  in  the  short  day  allotted  to  me,  than  to  read  whatever 
anyone  may  think  it  his  duty  to  write.  When  I read,  I wish  to  read 
to  good  purpose ; and  there  are  some  books  which  contradict,  on  the 
very  face  of  them,  what  appear  to  me  to  be  first  principles.  You 
surely  will  not  say,  ‘ I am  bound  to  read  such  books.  ’ If  a man  tells 
me  he  has  a very  elaborate  argument  to  prove  that  two  and  two  make 
five,  I have  something  else  to  do  than  to  attend  to  his  argument.  If 
I find  the  first  mouthful  of  meat  which  I take  from  a fine-looking 
joint  on  my  table  is  tainted,  I need  not  eat  through  it  to  be  convinced 
I ought  to  send  it  away.’  But  there  is  a shorter  route,  and  one  every 
way  still  more  safe ; and  that  is  to  treat  books  as  you  do  medicines ; 
have  nothing  to  do  with  them  till  others  have  tried  them,  and  can 
testify  to  their  worth.  There  are  always  what  are  denominated  stand' 


‘7^ 


BOW  SHALl  WB  BBalW  TO  READ  A BOOBf  [crt  t 


works  at  hand,  and  about  which  there  can  be  neither  doubt  nc 
mistake,  lou  cannot  read  everything;  and  if  you  could  you  woul 

vah!!d!l^  1 lui^^ber  would  bury  up  and  destroy  all  tli 

^aluable  materials  winch  you  were  laying  up.  J^ever  feel  anv  obli>- 

like  gold-leaf  o\er  a Avide  surface,  qmte  through,  in  hopes  of  findin 

You  wiirbe  disappointed.  a‘ 
hoot  thoughts  for  the  close  of  hi 

t^o!  ; 1 * poverty  of  intellect  if  he  makes  you  trave 

Zrh  hlT  ^ are  refreshing.  Leav 

thno  bound  to  spem 

to f rength  on  a mere  possibility.  Will  you  stand  till  wearied 

onn^finri  ™P®'’t™ent  coxcomb  talk,  when,  by  turning  away,  yoi 
can  find  instructive  company?  ° 

^ n ^ecid  a looM  Always  look  into  your  disl 

title-page,  see  who  wrote  the  book-where  he  lives;  do  you  knon 
anything  of  the  author t where,  and  by  whom  published?  Do  yoi 
anything  of  the  general  character  of  the  books  published  bt 
this  pu Wisher  ? Eecollect  what  you  have  heard  about  this  book  Ther 

wW  1 tf  ®i  m kind  of  a.  bow  the  author  makes,  anc 

n hat  Ad  thinks  of  himself  and  his  work:  why  he  has  the  boldness  tc 
chWlenge  the  public  to  hear  him.  Then  turn  to  the  contents,  see  what 
are  the  Meat  divisions  of  his  subject,  and  thus  get  a glance  of  his 
general  plan,  then  take  a single  chapter  or  section,  and  see  how  he  has 
divided  and  filled  that  up.  If  now  you  wish  to  taste  of  the  dish  before 
further  examination  of  the  contents,  then  turn  to  the  place  where  some 
important  point  is  discussed,  and  where  some  valuable  thought  pro- 
fesses to  be  expanded  or  illustrated,  and  see  how  it  is  executed.  If' 
after  some  few  such  trials,  you  should  find  your  author  obscure,  dull’ 
pedantic,  or  shallow,  you  need  not  fish  longer  in  these  waters.  It  will 
be  hard  to  catch  fish  here,  and,  when  caught,  they  will  be  too  small 
foi  use.  But  if  you  find  the  author  valuable  and  worth  your  attention, 
then  go  back  to  the  contents.  Examine  them  chaptw  by  chapter 
then  close  the  book,  and  see  if  you  have  the  plan  of  the  whole  work 
distinctly  and  fully  m your  mind.  Do  not  proceed  till  this  is  done, 
tbp  this  map  all  distinctly  drawn  in  the  mind,  then  get 

the  first  chapter  vividly  before  you,  so  far  as  the  contents  will  enable 
you  to  do  It.  _ mw  proceed  to  read.  At  the  close  of  each  sentence, 

noWtTTn^’tb®°  ^ ydemtand  that?  Is  it  true,  important,  or  to  the 
point.  ^ Anything  valuable  there,  ivhich  I ought  to  retain?  At  the 
close  or  each  paragraph,  ask  the  same  questions.  Leave  no  paragraph 


s 


CH.  IV.] 


HOW  TO  READ  A BOOK. 


79 


till  you  have  the  substance  of  it  in  your  mind.  Proceed  in  this  manner 
through  the  chapter;  and,  at  the  close  of  the  chapter,  look  back,  and 
see  what  the  author  tried  to  accomplish  by  it,  and  what  he  really  has 
I accomplished.  As  you  proceed,  if  the  book  be  your  own,  or  if  the 
owner  will  allow  you  to  do  it,  mark  with  your  pencil,  in  the  margin, 
what,  according  to  your  view,  is  the  character  of  each  paragraph,  or  of 
this  or  that  sentence.  To  illustrate  what  I mean,  I will  mention  a 
few  marks  which  I have  found  very  useful  to  myself ; these,  or  any- 
thing similar,  will  answer  the  end  to  be  attained.  Perhaps  the  remark 
had  better  be  made  here,  that  you  can  never  read  to  advantage  unless 
you  feel  well,  and  the  mind  and  spirits  are  buoyant.  Otherwise,  any 
author  will  be  stupid.  “J^o  one  will  read  with  much  advantage,  who 
is  not  able,  at  pleasure,  to  evacuate  his  mind,  and  who  brings  not  to 
his  author  an  intellect  defecated  and  pure ; neither  turbid  with  care, 
nor  agitated  with  pleasure.  ’ ’ 

I Signifies,  that  this  paragraph  contains  the  main,  or  one  of  the  main  propositions  to  be 
proved  or  illustrated  in  this  chapter;  the  staple,  or  one  of  the  staples  on  which  the 
I claim  hangs, 

I This  sentiment  is  true,  and  will  bear  expanding,  and  will  open  a field  indefinite  in 
I extent. 

This,  if  carried  out,  would  not  stand  the  test  of  experience,  and  is  therefore 
^ I incorrect. 

? 1 Doubtful  as  to  sentiment, 

?!  1 Doubtful  in  point  of  fact. 

5 I Good;  and  facts  will  only  strengthen  the  position, 
cc  I Bad;  facts  will  not  uphold  it. 

6 1 Irrelevant  to  the  subject;  had  better  have  been  omitted. 

* 1 Repetition;  the  author  is  moving  in  a circle. 

f 1 Not  inserted  in  the  right  place. 

O 1 In  good  taste, 
tj  1 In  bad  taste. 

Such  marks  may  be  increased  at  pleasure.  I have  found  the  above 
sufficient.  These  need  not  be  adopted,  as  each  one  can  invent  them 
for  himself ; but  care  should  be  taken  always  to  make  the  same  mark 
mean  the  same  thing.  But  will  not  this  method  of  reading  be  slow? 
Yes:  very  slow  and  very  valuable.  A single  book,  read  in  this  way, 
will  be  worth  a score  run  over.  It  will  compel  you  to  ihinh  as  well 
as  read,  to  judge,  to  discriminate,  to  sift  out  the  wheat  from  the  chaff. 
It  will  make  thought  your  own,  and  will  so  fix  it  in  the  mind,  that  it 
will  probably  be  at  your  command,  at  any  future  time.  The  first  thing 
to  be  done,  in  order  to  make  what  you  read  your  own,  is  to  think  as 


80 


CONVERSATION  AFTER  READING, 


[CH.  rv 


booir^’  closed  th. 

It  is  also  very  important  to  talk  over  the  subject  upon  which  you  ar< 
reading,  with  a friend  Be  candid  enough  to  teU  hhn  tSt  yoHav; 
just  been  reading,  so  that  he  may  know  that  you  do  not  claim  whal 
you  have,  as  your  own.  If  the  circle  embrace  several  who  wish  to  flj 
what  they  read  in  the  mind  by  conversation,  so  much  the  better. 

Thought,  too,  deliver’d,  is  the  more  possess’d, 
leaching,  we  learn;  and  giving,  we  receive.” 

oonfestim  doceas;  sic  et  tua  flrmare,  et  pro- 
desse  ahis  potes.  Ea  docc  quai  noveris,  eaqua  diversis  horis,  aliis  atque 
alas  conveniet  inculcare.  Satis  sit,  si  quispiam  te  audlat,  interea 
exeicitatione  miram  reriiin  co])iain  tilii  comjiaraversi  ” 

otlio/tr’  the  same  book,  or  if  one  is  reading  to  the 

othei,  the  advantages  of  conversation  will  still  be  greatly  increased. 

Bo  small  part  of  the  time  should  lie  spent  in  reviewing  what  von 
have  read  The  most  eminent  scholars  think  that  one-fourth  of  the 
non!Tr  sho«hl  he  thus  spent.  I believe  the  estimate  is. 

none  too  great.  But  is  it  not  evident,  that,  if  you  read  with  the 
marginal  niarks  made  by  the  pencil  in  your  hand,  as  described  above, 
you  can  review  the  author,  and  your  own  judgment  too,  in  a very 

'"hat  is  ’the  charaZ 

ter  of  each  paragraph.  You  will  see  just  where  the  fish  is,  and  whai 
tie  is,  and  at  once  you  can  put  your  liook  in  and  take  him  out. 

I here  is  another  very  important  thing  to  be  attended  to  in  readinff 
1 mean  dasstfmiwn.  We  need  a power,  which,  in  the  present  state 
ot  our  existence,  we  do  not  possess— a power  of  keeping  all  th^t  ever 
passes  through  our  mind  which  is  worth  keeping.  ErSmus  (de  Rat. ' 
Hud.)  dwells  upon  this  point  with  great  beauty  and  force.  “Inter 
legendum  auctorem  non  oscitanter  observabis  si  quod  incidat  insio-ne 
verbum.  si  quod  argumentum,  aut  inventum  acute,  aut  tortum  ante 
SI  yia  sententia  digna  quie  memoriiB  commendetur:  isque  locus  erit 
apta  notuia  quapiam  msigniendus.  Quanto  pluris  feceris  exisruum 
proventum,  tanto  ad  altiora  dootrinse  vestigia  es  evasurus.  Qui 
vihssimos  quosque  nummos  admirantur,  intuentur  crebro,  et  servant 
accurate,  ad  summas  soepenumero  divitias  perveniunt;  pari  mode  si 
quis  aptavit  sudorum  metam  bene  scribere,  discat  mirari  bene  scripta, 
discat  gaudere,  si  vel  nomina  duo  conjunxerit  venuste  ” 

We  cannot  write  out,  or  copy,  what  we  read.  We  can  remember 
but  a very  small  part  of  it-  What  shall  we  do?  For  one,  1 have  been 


THE  INDEX  BERUM. 


81 


CH.  lV\]  ^ 

in  theVabit  of  making  an  Index  Rerum  of  my  reading.  The  hook  is 
30  classified,  that,  in  a single  moment,  I can  refer  to  anything  which  I 
have  ev^  read  and  tell  where  it  is  found  the  book  and  the  page.  It 
saves  the  labor  of  a common- place  book,  and  yet  preserves  all  that 
can  be  preserved.  About  a year  since,  I published  the  plan  of  my 
own  “Index  Eerum.”  And  as  I have  not,  from  the  first,  had  any 
pecuniary  interest  in  it,  I may  say  that  the  plan  is  highly  approved. 
One  large  edition  has  been  sold,  and  second  widely  scattered.  1 
find,  also,  since  its  publication,  that  the  late  venerable  President  Porter 
made  himself  such  an  index,  on  principles  somewhat  similar,  which  he 
used  all  his  life.  This  plan,  pursued  for  a very  few  years,  will  give  you 
an  index  of*  inestimable  value.^  A single  year  will  convince  you  that  you 
cannot  afford  to  lose  its  benefits.'^ 

What  shall  be  said  of  the  newspapers  and  magazines  with  which  we 
are  flooded  ? Few  things  weaken  the  mind  of  the  student  more  than 
light  miscellaneous  reading.  You  find  it  the  fashion  to  have  read  a 
world  of  reviews,  magazines,  and  papers.  They  are  not  written  with 
the  expectation  of  being  remembered.  And  after  you  have  spent 
hours  over  them,  it  is  very  doubtful  whetlier  you  have  done  anything 
more  than  crowd  the  mind  with  vague  images  and  impressions,  which 
decidedly  weaken  the  memory.  Every  time  you  crowd  into  the  mem- 
ory what  vou  do  not  expect  it  to  retain,  you  weaken  its  powers,  and 
you  lose  your  authority  to  command  its  services.  The  fewer  of  such 
things  the  student  reads,  the  better.  Perhaps  you  may,  now  and  then 
crowd  sweetmeats  into  the  stomach,  which  it  neither  can  nor  will 
digest ; but  the  fewer  the  better. 

There  is  another  very  important  point  to  be  kept  in  mind;  and  that 
is,  that,  in  reading,  you  should  always  have  your  pen  by  you,  not  merely 
to  make  a minute  in  your  index,  but  to  save  the  thoughts  which  are 
started  in  your  own  mind.  Did  you  never  notice,  that,  while  reading, 
your  own  mind  is  so  put  into  operation,  that  it  strikes  out  new  and 
bold  trains  of  thinking— trains  that  are  worth  preserving,  and  such  as 
will  be  scattered  to  the  winds,  if  not  penned  down  at  the  moment  of 
their  creation?  A wise  man  will  be  as  careful  to  save  that  property 
which  he  himself  makes,  as  that  which  he  inherits.  The  student  should 
be ; for  it  will  be  of  vastly  more  value  to  him. 

I I cannot  close  this  chapter  without  saying  what  seem  to  me  to  be 
distinctly  the  three  great  objects  of  reading. 


* I may  respectfully  refer  to  my  ^ ‘Index  Reriim”  for  tlie  plan  and  explanation  of  tlie 
work.  While  the  kindest  things  have  been  said  in  regard  to  it,  nothing  to  the  contrary 
has  ever  been  said  by  iliose  who  have  used  it.  It,  or  something  like  it,  should  be  the 
constant  companion  of  every  student. 

6 


82 


READING  FORMS  TOUR  STYLE. 


rcH.  n 


theinflSnSo^hermfnd^wftS^^  any  length  of  time,  unde 
of  thinldng  influenced  bv  Siat  Vninfr  yo"*"  language  and  mode 
an  elevate!,  measureV^iSifie  rsty'le  " 

sf-Kri 

fn  thniirri  ^ Ji^quently  give  a tone  and  a bias  to  to  the  mind  both^as 

,i  .vc.,.r^st  sts 

it  gaA^e  was  to  me  invaluable.”  ^ 

nJt  1-  ’ rhyme,  informed  me  that  shp 

first  discovered  that  she  possessed  any  of  the  rhyming  iwers  bter 
having  made  a business,  for  some  time,  of  oow?ng“tL  poeirf  of 

such^vriters  a?AddisoVare”*^^^’  and  certain  imitation,, 

SUCH  vriiers  as  Addison  are  always  recommended  to  the  vonno,  f, 

vZ  dTar^nd  beaSf^l  ™ ^ “|e  of 

Luld  Adtiat^vou  as  ^reful,  then,  not  to  read  what 

ouia  Mtiate  youi  style,  as  you  Avould  not  to  keep  comnanv  Avith ' 
those  who  would  corrupt  your  manners.  ^ npany  Awth 

2.  Beading  stocks  the  mind  with  knowledge. 

ihis  IS  the  grand  object  of  reading.  We  come  into  the  world  iiynor 
history,  the  experience  of  other  men^and 

‘r*™rr. 

o O guide  us  except  that  of  our  own  mdividual  experience.  ^ Hel 


(jH.  lv.\|  Ui^ADlNQ  STORIES  THE  MIND.  83 

who  wo^uld  bo  coiTipolled  to  go  across  the  Atlantic  to  obtain  a narration 
of  facts  -^hich  can  be  read  in  two  hours,  would  need  the  years  of  ante- 
diluvians, and  then  die  a very  ignorant  man.  ‘ Without  books,”  says  i 
the  quaint  but  enthusiastic  Bartholen,  “God  is  silent,  justice  dormant, , 
physic  [natural  science]  at  a stand,  philosophy  lame,  letters  dumb,  and 
all  things  involved  in  Cimerian  darkness.” 

You' must  not  only  read  and  make  books  the  fountain  from  which 
you  draw  your  knowledge,  but  you  must  expect  to  draw  from  this 
fountain  through  life.  What  you  read  to-day,  will  soon  be  gone 
expended,  or  forgotten;  and  the  mind  must  be  continually  filled  up 
with  new  streams  of  knowledge.  Even  the  ocean  would  be  dried  up 
were  the  streams  to  be  cut  off,  which  are  constantly  flowing  into  it. 
“How  few  read  enough  to  stock  their  minds!  And  the  mind  is  no 
widow’s  cruise,  which  fills  with  knowledge  as  fast  as  we  empty  it.  It 
is  the  ‘hand  of  diligent  which  maketh  rich.’  ” 

3,  Reading  stimulates  and  ])uts  your  own  men  tal  energies  into  opera- 
tion. 

If  you  were  driven  into  a corner,  and  compelled  to  produce  some- 
thing as  your  own  thoughts  and  opinions  on  an  important  point,  at 
once,  you  would  wish  to  stimulate  your  mind,  and  key  it  up  to  the 
hio^hest  point.  How  would  you  do  it?  You  might  reach  it  through 
the  body,  and,  by  stimulating  that  with  wines  or  opium,  might  ex- 
cite the  mind.  But,  then,  the  results  thus  produced  would  be  uncer- 
tain. They  might  be  correct,  and  they  might  be  like  the  ravings  of 
the  mind  excited  by  disease.  But,  at  any  rate,  the  body  and  the  mind 
would  both  suffer  by  this  unnatural  excitement.  The  reaction  is 
awfully  great  ; and,  therefore,  you  may  not  do  it.  What  can  you 
do?  i reply,  that  you  can  stimulate  yoiqmind  at  any  time,  when  the 
body  is  healthful,  by  reading.  Ho  one  can  read  the  speeches  of 
Buiice,  of  Chatham  and  of  our  own  Patrick  Henry,  without  being 
moved.  Ko  matter  what  you  are  writing  upon,  or  upon  what  you  are 
to  speak,  you  cannot  read  a good  book  without  being  stimulated.  The 
dream  of  Clarence,  and  the  speeches  of  Hamlet,  in  Shakspeare  ; the 
speeches  of  men  in  the  senate;  the  addresses  of  men  from  the  pulpit  ; 
and  above  all,  the  overwhelming  torrent  of  clear  thought,  in  burning 
language,  which  the  masters  of  ancient  times  poured  out — will  swell 
tbe'^bosom,  rouse  the  soul,  and  call  all  your  own  powers  into  action. 
This  effect  of  books  will  last  through  life;  and  he  who  knows  how  to 
read  to  advantage  will  ever  have  something  as  applicable  to  his  men- 
tal powers,  as  electricty  is  to  move  the  animal  system.  The  man  who 
has  sat  over  the  workings  of  a powerful  mind,  as  exhibited  on  the 
written  page,  without  being  excited,  moved,  and  made  to  feel  that  he 


84 


BCOKOMIZim  TIME. 


[CIT. 


can  do  something,  and  will  do  something,  has  yet  to  learn  one  of  tl 
ghest  pleapres  of  the  student’s  life,  and  is  yet  ignorant  of  whi 
riTOrs  of  delight  are  flowmg  around  him  through  all  the  journey  of  lif. 

repeating— Do  not  read  too  many  books:  read  thorough] 
T\hat  you  undertake.  Buy  but  few  books;  and  never  buv  till  you  ca 
py  for  what  you  buy  lou  cannot  more  than  half  enjoy  any  thin 
for  which  you  owe.  Make  all  that  you  do  read  your  own;  aM  yo 

SZs  foVTui 


y. 


TIME. 


Them  is  no  point,  upon  which  I wish  to  touch,  so  difficult  as  thL« 
and  yet  not  one  upon  which  so  much  good  might  be  done,  if  the  rio-fa 
tilings  could  be  said,  and  said  in  a right  way.  It  is  easy  enough  to  lyrit 
prettily  about  the  shortness  and  the  fleetness  of  time,  but  not  so  eas’ 
to  give  specific  rules  how  to  improve  it  as  it  flies;  but  it  is  far  easier  ti 
ao  this,  than  to  confer  the  disposition,  and  create  the  determinatioi 
to  use  it  to  the  best  possible  advantage.  A miser  will  frequently  be 
come  iTCalthy— not  because  he  has  a great  income,  but  because  he  save 
with  the  utmost  care,  and  spends  with  the  greatest  caution.  This  is  i 
precept  taught  us  in  the  very  morning  of  life,  but  generally  not  learner 
till  late  m the  evening.  “It  is  a prodigious  thing  to  consider  that 
although  amongst  all  the  talents  which  are  committed  to  our  steward- 
ship, time,  upon  several  accounts,  is  the  most  precious;  yet  there  i; 
not  any  one  of  which  the  generality  of  men  are  more  profuse  and  rei 
garcuess.  Hay,  it  is  obvious  to  observe,  that  even  those  persons  whc 
are  frugal  and  thrifty  in  everything  else,  are  yet  extremely  prodigal  ol 
their  best  revenue,  time;  of  which,  as  Seneca  nobly  says,  'it  is  a virtue 
to  be  covetous.  ’ It  is  amazing  to  think  how  much  time  may  be  gained 
by  proper  economy.  ” 

This  is  a hard  lesson,  but  it  must  be  learned.  “Ad  summa  preveniet 
nemo,  nisi  tempore,  quo  nihil  esse  fugacius  constat,  prudenter  utatur.’’ 

The  celebrated  Earl  of  Chatham  performed  an  amount  of  business, 
even  minute,  which  filled  comrnon  improvers  of  time  with  utter  as- 
tonishment. ^ He  knew,  not  merely  the  great  outlines'  of  public  busk 
ness,  the  policy  and  intrigues  of  foreign  courts,  but  his  eye  was  oi 


^ vj  VALU£!  OF  TIMF.  B5 

vGry  psyt  of  tliG  British  domiiiioiis  j Sjnd.  sc^^rcGly  ^ ni3;n  could  movGj 
dthout  his  knowlGdgG  of  tho  man,  and  of  his  objGct.  A friond  onG 
ay  callGd  on  him  whon  promior  of  England,  and  found  him  down 
n his  hands  and  knoGS  playing  marblGS  with  his  littlG  boy,  and 
laining  bittorly  that  tho  roguG  would  not  play  fair,  gayly  adding  “that 
6 must  havG  boon  corruptod  by  tliG  GxamplG  of  tho  hrcnch.  dho 
[iond  wisliGd  to  montion  a suspicious-looking  stranger,  who,  for  some 
:me,  had  taken  up  lodgings  in  London.  Was  he  a spy,  or  merely  a 
rivate  gentleman?  Pitt  went  to  his  drawer,  and  took  out  some 
3ores  of  small  portraits,  and,  holding  up  one  which  he  had  selected, 
sked,  “Is  that  the  man ?”  “ Yes,  the  very  person. ” “ O ! I have  had 

ly  eye  on  him  from  the  moment  he  stepped  on  shore.  ’ ’ 

All  this  was  accomplished  by  a rigid  observance  of  time,  never 
altering  a moment  to  pass  without  pressing  it  into  service. 

No  one  Avill  try  to  improve  his  time,  unless  he  first  be  impressed  with 
be  iTecessity.  Kemember  that,  at  the  very  best  calculation,  we  can 
ave  but  short  time  in  which  to  learn  all,  and  do  all,  that  we  accom- 
tlisli  in  life.  There  is  something  melancholy  in  the  following  picture, 
rawn  by  the  great  hand  of  Johnson: — “When  we  have  deducted  all 
hat  is  absorbed  in  sleep;  all  that  is  inevitably  appropriated  to  the 
emands  of  nature,  or  irresistibly  engrossed  by  the  tyranny  of  custom ; 
11  that  passes  in  regulating  the  superficial  decorations  of  fife,  or  is 
pven  up  in  the  reciprocations  of  civility  to  the  disposal  of  others  ; all 
bat  is  torn  from  us  by  the  violence  of  disease;  or  stolen  imperceptibly 
way  by  lassitude  and  languor— we  shall  find  that  part  of  our  duration 
ery  sniall,  of  which  we  can  truly  call  ourselves  masters,  or  which  we 
an  spend  wholly  at  our  own  choice.”  At  the  beginning  of  each  day, , 
jee  whaJ,  and  how  much  you  want  to  accomplish  before  you  sleep,  and^ 
hen  at  once  begin  to  execute  your  plans,  suffering  no  time  to  run  wastej 
)etween  planning  and  acting,  j^.t  the  close  of  the  day  be  impartial  and  v 
borough  in  reviewing  the  day,  and  noting  wherein  you  have  failed. 
Chere  is  much  to  be  learned  from  the  somewhat  humorous  account  of 
he  Indian  Gymnosophists,  in  their  plans  for  educating  their  disciples. 
Che  account'  is  from  Apuleius,  a Platonic  philosopher  of  the  second 
;entury.  “When  their  dinner  is  ready,  before  it  is  served  up,  the 
nasters  inquire  of  every  particular  scholar  how  he  has  employed  his 
iine  since  sun-rising:  some  of  them  answer,  that,  having  been  chosen 
as  arbiters  between  two  persons,  they  have  composed  their  differences, 
md  made  them  friends;  some  that  they  have  been  executing  the  orders 
)f  their  parents;  and  others,  that  they  have  either  found  out  some- 
hing  new,  by  their  own  application,  or  learned,  from  the  instructions 
)f  their  fellows.  But  if  there  happens  to  be  any  one  among  them 


BOLTON'S  DBBAM. 


8^  BOLTON'S  DBEAM. 

who  cannot  make  it  appear  that  he  has  employed  the  mominp'  ■ 
^vantage,  he  is  immediately  excluded  from  the  company,  and  ohlfm 
to  work,  wble  the  rest  are  at  dinner.”  I shall  be  Lc4ed,  if  I hi 
introduce  the  dream  of  the  amiable  Bolton.  If  mr  younff  reade 
have  met  with  it  before,_they  will  see  that  it  will  bear  a leviefy. 

Uippmg  into  Ap^deitis  for  my  afternoon’s  amusement,  the  fore^* 
mg  passage  was  the  last  I read,  before  I fell  into  a slumber,  whit 
^ concourse  of  the  fashionable  people  at  the  cour 
end  of  the  town,  under  the  examination  of  a Gymnosophist,  how  the 
their  morning.  He  began  with  the  men. 

Many  of  them  had  only  risen  to  dress — to  visit— to  amuse  then 
selves  at  the  drawmg-room,  or  coffee-house. 

or  walking,  been  consulting  that  health  s 

Some,  froni  the  time  they  had  got  on  their  own  clothes,  had  bee 
engaged  in  seeing  others  put  on  theirs — in  attending  levees — in  ei 

itarKorbySiSto 

Some  h^  been  early  out  of  their  beds,  because  they  could  nol 
from  their  ill  luck  the  preceding  evening,  rest  in  them;  and  whe 
risen,  as  they  had  no  spirits,  they  could  not  reconcile  themselves  t 
any  sort  of  application. 

“Some  had  not  had  it  in  their  power  to  do  what  was  of  much  con 
sequence : m the  former  part  of  the  morning,  they  wanted  to  speal 

thwlfrfendf^^'^^^^^’  not  be  denied  t 

“Othere,  truly,  had  been  reading,  but  reading  what  could  mak 
them  neither  iviser  nor  better— what  was  not  worth  their  remembering 
or  what  they  should  wish  to  forget.  ^ 

“It  grieved  me  to  hear  so  many  of  eminent  rank,  both  in  the  sei 
giving  an  account  of  themselves  that  leveled  then 
With  the  meanest  under  their  command. 

expressing  the  fullest  confidence  thal 
what  they  had  to  say  for  themselves  would  be  to  the  philosopher’! 
entire  satisfaction.  They  had  been  employed  as  virtuosi  should  be- 
had  been  exercising  their  skill  in  the  liberal  arts,  and  encouramnp*  thi 
artists.  Medals,  pictures,  statues  had  undergone  their  examination, 
and  been  their  purchase.  They  had  been  inquiring  what  the  literati  d 
France,  Germany  and  Italy,  had,  of  late,  published:  and  they  hai 
bought  what  suited  their  respective  tastes.  ^ 

When  it  appeared  that  the  completing  a Homan  series  had  been 


THE  THIEVES  OF  STUDENTS— SLEEP. 


87 


E.  V.] 


beir  concern  who  had  never  read  over,  in  their  own  language,  a Latin 
istorian;  that  they  who  grudged  no  expense  for  originals,  knew  them 
nly  by  hearsay,  from  their  worst  copies;  that  the  very  persons  who 
ad  paid  so  much  for  the  labor  of  Kysbrack,  [an  Italian  landscape- 
ainter],  upon  Sir  Andrew’s  judgment,  would,  if  they  had  followed 
beir  own.,  have  paid  the  same  sum  for  that  of  Bird’s;  that  the  book- 
'uyers  had  not  laid  out  their  money  on  what  they  ever  proposed  to 
ead  but  on  what  they  had  heard  commended,  and  what  they  wanted 
0 fit  a shelf,  and  fill  a library  that  only  served  them  for  a breakfast- 
Dom ;— this  class  of  men  the  sage  pronounced  the  idlest  of  all  idle 
eople,  and  doubly  blamable,  as  wasting  alike  their  time  and  their 


JltUliC. 

“The  folly  of  one  sex  had  so  tired  the  philosopher,  that  he  would 
utfer  no  account  to  be  given  of  the  other.  It  was  easy  for  him  to 
uess  how  the  females  must  have  been  employed,  where  such  were 
be  examples  in  those  they  were  to  honor  and  obey.'''' 

There  are  certain  thieves  that  hang  round  a student,  and  who  daily  ■ 
estroy  much  which  might  be  of  great  value  to  him.  I will  mention 
ome  of  these,  that  you  may  know  when  you  even  hear  their  footsteps; 
or  hear  them  you  certainly  will,  and  if  you  have  anything  of  the 
esires  of  a student,  will  often  cry  out,  ‘ ‘ O fures — latrones — O tyrannos 
rudelissimos  quorum  consilio  mihi  unquam  periit  Hora!” 

1.  Slee^p. 

Nothing  is  easier  than  to  cultivate  the  habit  of  sleep,  so  that  the 
7stem  demands,  and  will  be  deranged  if  the  demand  be  denied,  eight 
r ten  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  Physicians  usually  say  that  six 
ours  are  sufficient  for  all  the  purposes  of  health ; and,  were  the  eyes 
0 close  the  moment  you  reach  the  pillow,  perhaps  six  hours  would  be 
ufficient  for  the  bed.  But  suppose  you  allow  seven,  and  rigidly  ad- 
lere  to  that  number  as  a rule,  would  you  not  have  much  more  time 
ban  you  now  have?  Were  you  faithfully  to  apply  that  time  to  your 
tudies,  which  is  now  occupied  by  your  bed,  over  and  above  the  seven 
lOurs,  would  you  not  make  great  advances  in  almost  any  department 
.f  study?  But  the  waste  of  time  is  not  all.  The  whole  system  is 
►rostrated  by  indulging  the  luxury  of  sleep  ; and  you  are  as  certainly 
bsqualified  for  severe  study,  after  ten  hours  of  sleep,  as  if  you  had  over- 
oaded  the  stomach  with  food.  The  body  and  mind  are  both 
vreakened  by  it.  Take,-  then,  two  hours  from  the  sleep  of  most  who 
all  themselves  students,  and  add  to  it  the  value  of  two  hours  more, 
aved  by  increased  vigor  of  mind,  by  the  diminution  of  sleep,  and  you 
lave  a decided  gain.  What  shall  be  said  of  the  practice  of  sleeping 
iter  dinner?  A few  words  will  suffice.  If  you  wish  for  a duh^ 


88 


1ND0LENCE-8L0TB. 


[CH. 


feverish  feeling  low  spirits,  prostration  of  strength,  full  aching  hpa. 
and  a stomach  that  refuses  to  work  for  such  a k ^ 

eat  hearty  dinners,  and  sleep  iZed!l1ytft“^^  The  caU  w] 

th^ZSZcontiZd^^^ 

2.  Indolence. 

Says  beZufv  T?;  ’T’ 

a nays  oe  a duty.  Dr.  Fothergill,  an  eminent  Quaker  physician  savs 
I endeavor  to  follow  my  business,  because  it  is  my  dkitl  rather  tha 
my  interest:  the  latter  is  inseparable  from  a just  disth&Sf  du t 

^ 3 Shi  last  place.”  ® ^ 

This  has  frequently  and  justly  been  denominated  the  rust  of  the  soul 
The  habit  IS  easily  acquired;  or  mther  it  is  a part  of  om  Sy  nCr. 
to  be  indolent.  It  grows  fast  by  indulgence,  and  soon  seizes  uoon  thi 
soul  with  the  violence  and  strength  of  an  armed  maT  ^ 

same“as1t*our'daf  ^''^re  thi 

same  as  at  our  day.  Qumdam  tempore  eripinntur  nobis-  ousedan 

MghgZlm'lZZ  "“*’  tamenestjactura  qZ  pe, 

o?nvi'^t^?l^®  ¥1  that  we  cannot 


«x^c ‘‘'Ti  i"S; \r  .fj: 

rlnAr  T^y»  o vhtt-v-vT-w-v-m  ^4?  n t 


day,  for  a number  of  days,  or  weeks,  to.  examine  that  subject  and  t( 
wiite  on  that  point,  I could  then  do  something.”  But  as  it ’is  wha 
can  you  do  with  such  fragments  as  you  gather,  here  and  the'-e  bi 
sitting  up  late,  or  robbing  your  pillow  at  the  dawn  of  day*  Can  ’vot 
do  any  hing  with  them?  Jfo;  you  must  wait  for  leisure,  Jnd  fOTsom 
great  change  m your  outward  circumstances,  before  you  can  Lpe  tt 

uftZt  whl"a  •'  Madami  LTenrtelh 

tn'hZ’Z  r m ®°™P^niqn  of  the  Queen  of  France,  it  was  her  duty 

befSe  diZr^^^The^p'^fiTf  mistress  just  fifteen  minuti 

before  dinner  These  fifteen  minutes  were  saved  at  every  dinner  and 
a volume  or  two  was  the  result.  No  change,  great  an J marked  to 
Xyour  general  course,  is  necessary  to  make  new  and  rich  acquisitions- 
'.only  save  every  moment  of  time  which  you  now  throw  away^ml  you 


OK  visiTim. 


5.  V.] 


Sd 


dll  be  able  to  do  anything.  If  I may  speak  from  my  own  experience, ) 

can  testify  that  very  nearly  all  that  I have  ever  attained,  or  done, ) 
ut  of  the  regular  routine  of  my  professional  duties,  has  been  by  taking  , 
lose  odd  moments  which  are  so  easily  thrown  away.  There  are  little') 
acancies,  in  the  most  crowded  periods  of  every  man’s  duties,  which 
re  thrown  away  in  resting  ‘from  the  great  object  of  pursuit.  But 
iere  is  no  way  of  resting  the  mind  more  effectual,  than  to  have  some- 
tiing  on  hand  to  occupy  it.  The  mind  is  not  like  a hand-organ,  which 
rears  as  fast  after  you  have  shifted  the  key,  and  taken  a new  tune,  as 
efore.  I have  a friend,  who  is  most  laborious  in  his  profession,  and 
3 active  in  his  duties,  that  one  would  think  he  could  never  enter  his 
budy;  and  yet,  should  he  live  and  labor  for  the  coming  ten  years,  as 
e has  for  the  last  five,  he  will  die  with  a celebrity,  as  an  author,  that 
dll  not  be  doubtful.  He  accomplishes  it  all  by  improving  the  frag- 
lents  of  time.  The  well-known  Erasmus  spent  the  greater  part  of  his 
fe  in  wandering  from  country  to  country,  chasing  promises  of  patron- 
ge,  which  were  held  out  only  to  deceive.  Yet,  by  an  undeviating 
nd  vigilant  improvement  of  those  hours  which  will  always  remain 
mid  the  greatest  activity,  this  poor  scholar,  compelled  by  poverty  to 
olicit  from  the  great,  continued  to  write  more  valuable  books  than 
lost  men,  in  like  circumstances,  would  have  felt  able  to  read.  J ohn- 
on  declares  that  he  will  forever  stand  in  the  first  rank  of  literary 
eroes,  having  transmitted  the  moFt  complete  and  perfect  delineations 
f the  manners  of  his  age. 

4.  Visiting. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  some  of  our  time  should  be  given  to  the 
lultivation  of  the  social  affections.  But  if  the  visiting  be  formal  and , 
eremonious,  it  cannot  well  be  too  seldom,  or  too  short.  It  is  fre-, 
[uently  said  that  the  student  should  visit,  and,  in  the  society  of  thei^ 
adies,  to  relax  his  mind.  I could  never  feel  that  this  is  anything 
ILifferent  from  an  insult  to  the  sex.  If  you  do  visit  with  them,  it  should, 
n part,  be  to  be  instructive  and  useful  to  them,  and  not  to  consider 
hem  in  the  mere  light  of  “parlor  ornaments,”  with  the  admiration  of 
vhich  it  is  very  pleasant  for  you  to  relax  your  mind  after  severe  study. 

I And  how  many  dinner  or  evening  parties  can  the  student  attend 
iveekly,  and  yet  be  a student?  Hot  any.  He  who  would  obtain 
knowledge,  must  have  his  body  in  the  proper  condition,  his  mind  in 
lis  room,  his  attention  all  his  own.  You  will  find  many  students  who 
■dsit  much;  but  they  are  not  what  we  mean  by  good  scholars.  But 
low  shall  you  ever  become  acquainted  with  society,  and  become  famil- 
ar  with  good  manners?  I answer,  By  your  vacations.  Hearly  a 


90 


HlJSrTS  ON  METIiOBB  OF  STUDY. 


[cs 


pu5Tesfa?;rsJrthlsEen^ 

5.  Reading  useless  hooks. 

7.315“  “cT77t";„’"r  “73 

th.  ch.j«i  o.  the  &bEi,.7i,h  7"h  7„75  „5i7  l."7oi3'3 

to  be  resisted  by  my  feeble  remonstrance,  that  “ninltenths  of  ^ t 
students  m our  colleges  spend  most  of  their  time  in  readin™el 
The  assertion  is  not  true;  but  there  is  too  much  truth  " Tnob 
mmd  and  a manly  spirit  can  soon  become  so  much  interested  in  wh 

Stt^^tTf  ficSr  a 

6.  ImjJroper  method  of  study. 

^ the  chapter  on  Studx 

\ 11  enable  you  to  understand  what  is  meant  by  study  and  also  to  fon 
hyits  'vh.oh  will  soon  make  it  pleasant?  M^ny  2dents  will  bS 

preSbed  immediate  relation  to  tlfei 

prescrioea  course.  They  are  useless  or  puerile.  You  may  conoiie 

V A gentleman  was  riding  through  we  of^ou 

large  towns  when  a dog  came  out  and  began  to  bark  at  the  chaise 
He  began  to  strike  at  him  with  his  whip^  This  only  tecreLed  th 

i?nX  Wnm  some  ten  or  a dozen  more  to  his  aW 

H now  became  a serious  business.  AO  doors  were  on  iar  and  the  ol< 
wmen  and  children  laughing  at  the  contest.  What  was  to  be  done 
Was  a gentleman  to  be  put  down  so?  No.  He  descends  ties  hi 
h*  Tii”P’  actually  whips  and  drives  away’ the  yelp 
rn“,  ascended  his  chaise,  his  laurels  bevM 

to  wither,  as  an  old  lady  cried  after  him,  “Why,  after  all  you  havi 
only  chased  away  a dog!”  Are  there  not  many  such  battlerfoS 
by  students  who  pursue  studies  that  are  out  of  tL  way,  and  whiob^  ii 
^ased,  are  as  honorable  as  the  conquest  just  mentioMd?  These  ’re- 
Mks  do  not  apply  to  anything  in  the  course  prescribed  for  the  class 
Music,  painting,  drawing,  and  the  like,  arl  appropriate  and  Iwv 
d^irable,  m their  places;  but  how  many  have  wasted  their  time  in 
their  pursuit  and  thus  not  merely  thrown  away  their  opportunities  for 
making  solid  attainments,  but  acquired  wrong  habits,  w^ich  clung  to 


V.] 


evils  of  pbograstination. 


91 


A lifat  Tpavp  vour  flute  ut  home,  and  let  it  be  one  of  the 
law  thing!  to  cheer  you  during  vacations,  and  one  of  the  pleasures 
hich  you  Meffo  in  term-time,  to  avoid  temptations.  ^ ^ 

T Welose  tins  hy  purming  a study  wUn  the  mind  ^s  wearied. 
here  is  danger  in  mentioning  this,  lest  you  mista,ke  that  restless- 
>ss  and  that  uneasiness  of  mind  so  uniformly  attending 
fp  ’ for  real  weariness.  But  the  mind,  as  well  as  the  bod^.,  may  be 
led  and  eX  a horse,  in  that  condition,  ought  not  to  be  spurred^ 

% inmta  Mimrva.  Belief  and  refreshment  will  be  quickly  found  by 
mine  to  some  other  study.  “Post  lectione  seu  stylo  Xf^hSm 
to  repugnante  natura;  sed  exercitii  genus  aliud  quiero,  quo  taediu  , 

T studies  press  us  in  c^eque-nee  of  vou  ' 

Tt  is  impossible  to  have  the  mmd  free  and  unembarrassed,  it  you ; 
ffer  vSudies  to  be  driving  you.  If  you  defer  your  lesson  to  the 
TV  ih  moment  in  which  you  can  possibly  get  it,  you  are  not  your 
v^^  XstW  A man  may  do  a full  day’s  worl  m the  afternoon;  but! 
he  puts  it  off  till  that  time,  he  will  be  unhappy  all  the  morning,, 
rer  laK  in  the  afternoon,’  and  sick  in  the  evening.  He  who  does 
lything  iniaste,  no  matter  what  his  powers  of  mind 
it  well  If  I have  fifty  miles  to  ride  to-day,  I can  do  it  all  after 
inner-  but  to  undertake  it  would  be  unwise,  and  cruel  to  myself  and 
IV  horse.  There  should  be  no  loitering  in  the  morning,  because  you 
m retrieve  the  loss  in  the  evening.  Punctuality  m getting  your  les- 
i^fs  rthe“  first  important  “It  is  like  packing  things  m a 
ox  • a ffood  paclrer  will  get  in  half  as  much  more  as  a bad  one.  Th 
ilmness  of  mind  which  it  produces  is  another  advantage  of  punctu- 
£ A Sderly  manja.  always  in  a,  hurry.  He  has  no  time  to 
2k  going  elsewhere;  and  when  be  gets  there 

I is  too  late  for  his  business,  or  he  must  hurry  away  f® 
p can  finish  it.  It  was  a wise  maxim  of  the  Duke  ot  J- 

rx  thing  at  a time.’  Punctuality  gives  weight  to  character. 
Suohamanfias  made  an  appointment;  fben  I know  he  will  ke^^^^^ 

\nd  this  ffenerates  punctuality  in  you;  for,  like  other  virtues,  n 
iropagates^itself.  Appointments  indeed,  become  debts;  I "we  you 
)un!toality,  if  I have  made  an  appointment  w^i  you,  and  have  no 
•io-ht  to  throw  awav  vo^i^  time,  if  I do  my  own.^  ^ 

^9.  We  lose  time  hy  leginning  flans  emd  studies  which  we  never  com- 

If'the  habit  of  entering  upon  what  is  not  carried  out  and  completed 
'le  allowed  in  early  life,  the  evil  increases  as  long  as  we  hve.  f^^fi 
but  into  my  handf  a bundle  of  papers  which  belonged  to  one  who  was 


93 


ALWAYS  COMPLETE  WEAT  WE  COMMENCE. 


[CH. 


reputed  a genius.  ‘ Were  they  worth  publishing?”  was  the  auestir 
Honesty  required  the  answer  to  be-‘‘No.”  ^There  was  S«r,l  I 
single  thing  completed.  Here  was  a poem  begun  • tCe  a sS 
completed;  there  a calculation  oLn  eclipse  about  two  Odr 
finished,  with  great  accuracy  and  beauty;  there^a  conZsition  co^ 
menced,  or  a letter  about  half  finished-evidence  sSent  th^? 
TOssessed  mind,  and  even  genius;  but  had  he  lived,  with  those* habit 

whhout  earring  itXr^^^ 

reason  or  other,  cannot  finish  has  bee 

Si  voSmi  I*  not  essential  that  you  devot 

a f your  time  to  the  point  on  which  you  wish  to  receive  or  bestow  lio-lu 
bu  do  something  every  day,  and  in  time  the  thin^wm  be 
however  formidable  it  appeal's  at  the  commencement.  ^ 

Anv  ‘‘*™*on  and  improvement  of  our  time 

A y one  who  has  never  made  the  trial,  is  an  utter  strano-er  to  th 
hm^evtf  pleasure  with  which  the  soul  meets  her  dafly  dutiS 
owevei  varies,  or  however  arduous,  if  they  return  periodicallv  at  th 
same  hour  There  will  be  a sufficiency  of  variety  Kord  Slef  aS 

SieeW^h-  ^ ^ oom^lete  as  poSle  " 

wheel  that  turns  constantly  may  move  a vast  power,  if  every  cos  o 

the  wheel  be  right;  but  if  there  be  one  broken  here,  and  another  tto-e 
® machinery  will  suffer,  and  eventually  break  to  pieces  So 

suffpr  ■1'®™  arrangements  of  stuk',  you  vvill 

suiier  whenever  it  be  broken  in  unon  The  rp^nlf  will  hi  + 

will  abandon  it  and  let  the  ship  go  as  she  pleases,  and  how  she  pleased 

keep  hertirto  WeS^^  ana 

make  time  valuable,  beware  of  low  and  trifling  pursuits' 
Do  nothing  of  winch  you  will  ever  be  i^hamed,  either  here^  oriiere- 
that  one  who  has  your  advantages  and  your  respon 
the*verH*^°'^f^  descending  to  tricks,  or  even  to  trifles?  What  i 
the  verdict  of  a world  against  Hero,  who,  when  Emperor  of  Rome 

puT  Wnif'lff  m'"""  challenging  the  fiddlers  to  beat  him?  \ro 

us  king  of  Macedonia,  spent  his  time  in  making  lanterns-a  ven 
useful  article,  but  no  business  for  a king.  Hercatius,  king  of  Parthia 
ernployed  his  time  in  catching  moles,  and  was  one  of  thf  best  moW 
catchers  m the  kingdom;  but  does  it  tell  to  his  credit?  Was  Biantes 

filiS‘*needles«®*“Tn“tr’  T .'fcrthy  ruler,  though  he  was  excellent  at 
filing  needles?  In  the  tenth  century,  there  was  a patriarch  in  the 


fhivolous  pursuits. 


93 


ff.  T.] 


hurch  by  the  name  of  Theophylact,  who  had  his  time  employed  m 
aarint^  horses.  He  had  in  his  stable  above  two  thousand  hunting 
orsest  fed  uiion  the  richest  dates,  grapes,  and  tigs,  steeped  in  wines. 

’o  say  nothing  about  the  waste  of  money,  does  not  the  voice  ot  man- 
ind  execrate  such  an  abuse  of  time,  and  talents,  and  station  i 
,et  what  is  the  difference  between  such  a waste  of  life,  and  that  which 
30  many  young  men  make,  excepting  that,  in  the  former  case,  the 
esponsibility  may  be  greater?  What  “disease  of  labor,”  truly! 

By  many,  much  time  is  wasted  in  dressing  the  person.  You  will 
ot  unfrequently  find  those  who  will  spend  from  one  hour  to  two  and 
half  every  morning  in  shaving  and  dressing.  What  do  they  accom- 
lish  in  life?  They  usually  have  smooth  chins,  and  look  neat.  As  for 
ccomplishing  anything  good  or  great,  they  will  never  do  either. 
)ress  and  neatness  are  highly  commendable;  but  we  cannot  have  our 
wagons  of  mahogany,  and  highly  varnished,  if  we  expect  to  carry 
eavy  loads  over  mountains  with  them.  i i 

I shall  speak  of  necessity  of  exercise  in  another  place;  but,  instead 
f that  exercise  which  is  to  refresh  and  invigorate,  how  many  spend 
inch  of  their  time  in  sports,  and  call  them  recreations!  We  may 
ave  sauces  to  our  dinner;  but  he  who  should  try  to  live  solely  upon 
hem  would  find  himself  shortly  becoming  lean.  Taylor  calls  such 
iverkons  “garments  made  all  of  fringes,”  neither  comfortable  nor 
.ecoming.  You  are  in  danger  from  any  recreation  which  you  love 
inch;  for  men  always  give  their  time  freely  to  what  they  love. 

He  who  can  make  two  spires  of  grass  grow  where  but  one  greAV 
.efore  is  said  to  bo  a benefactor  to  his  species;  and  I doubt  not  that 
le  who  would  show  you  a method  by  which  you  could  double  or  treble 
he  length  of  your  existence  on  earth,  would  be  a benefactor  also.  It 
eems  to  me  that  this  may  be  done.  ^ ^ 

Locke  observes  “that  we  get  the  idea  of  time  or  duration,  by  refiect- 
ng  on  that  train  of  ideas  which  succeeds  one  another  in  our  minds; 
hat  for  this  reason,  when  we  sleep  soundly  without  dreaming,  we 
lave  no  perception  of  time,  or  the  length  of  it,  while  we  sleep ; and 
hat  the  moment  wherein  we  leave  off  to  think,  till  the  moment  we 
)egin  to  think  again,  seems  to  have  no  distance.  And  so,  no  doubt, 
t would  to  a waking  man,  if  it  were  possible  for  him  to  keep  only  one 
fiea  in  his  mind  without  variation,  and  the  succession  of  others;  and 
ve  see,  that  one  w-ho  fixes  his  thoughts  very  intptly  on  one  thing,  so 
as  to  take  but  little  notice  of  the  succession  of  ideas  that  pass  in  his 
nind,  while  he  has  taken  up  with  the  earnest  contemplation,  lets  slip 
3ut  of  his  account  a good  part  of  that  duration,  and  thinks  the  time 
j^horter  ihm  it  is,”  Hence,  on  this  principle,  you  will  notice  that  life 


94 


OUR  LIVES  3IEA8UBBD  BY  OUR  THOUGHTS. 


[CH. 


s»;Ve 

being  improbable.  The  tliought  is  beautiful  as  „.  • 

« possible  that  some  creatures  may  think  half-an-hoimarw' ns  J 
do  a thousand  years,  or  look  upon  that  space  of  duration  which^^e  cn 
a minute,  as  an  hour,  a week,  a month,  or  a whole  im-e  ” Tf  t 2i  ’ 
theory  be  correct,  it  follows  that  time  will  seem  lon^or  short 
proportion  as  our  thoughts  are  quick  or  slow.  HenSe  he  who  d^es  , 
the  very  morning  of  life,  not  unfrequently  lives  Ion  ®er  than  a noth  1 

nf  Koran,  it  is  said  that  the  angel  Gabriel  took  Mahomet  oir 

ot  his  bed  one  morning,  to  give  him  a sKrht  nf  q11  fin* 

heavens,  in  paradise,  and  in^helh  whfch  fSe  toiS  Zk^^® 

view  of,  and,  after  having  held  ninety  thousand  cWferenc^  with  God 

was  brought  back  again  to  his  bed.  All  this  savs  thp 

transacted  in  so  small  a space  of  time, 

found  his  bed  still  warm,  and  took  up  an  earthen  nitVhpr 

altogether  impossible  and  absurd;  but,  conversing  one  dkv^vith  f 
doctor  m the  law,  who  had  the  gift  of  woS^WnS  /h  / f 
told  him  he  would  quickly  convince  him  of  thefruth  of  th"  ^ 
the  history  of  Mahlme  Jif  he  woulHolnt  to  dolvha  CToul 
desire  of  him  Upon  this,  the  sultan  was  directed  to  pkcrhiLelf t 
huge  tub  of  water,  which  he  did  accordingly;  and  as  he  stood  bv  fh 
yb  amidst  a circle  of  his  great  men,  the  holv  man  V ' 

head  into  the  water  and^draw  it  up  aSn  The  kinr/  T 
thrust  his  head  into  the  water,  and  at^ the^same  time  fould  hiSelS 
the  foot  of  a mountain  on  the  sea-shore.  The  king  immediately  begur 


Ca.  V.]  TUmisn  TALE.  95 

itorage  against  his  doctor  for  this  piece  of  treachery  and  witchcraft ; 
but,  at  length,  knowing  it  was  in  vain  to  be  angry,  he  set  himself  to 
think  on  proper  methods  for  getting  a livelihood  in  this  strange  coun- 
try. Accordingly,  he  applied  himself  to  some  people  whom  he  saw  at 
work  in  a neighboring  wood.  Those  people  conducted  him  to  a town 
that  stood  at  a little  distance  from  the  wood,  where,  after  some  ad- 
ventures, he  married  a woman  of  great  beauty  and  fortune.  He  lived 
with  this  woman  so  long,  that  he  had  by  her  seven  sons  and  seven 
daughters.  He  was  afterward  reduced  to  great  want,  and  forced  to 
think  of  plying  in  the  streets  as  a porter,  for  his  livelihood.  One  day, 
as  he  was  walking  along  by  the  sea-side,  being  seized  with  many  re- 
flections upon  his  former  and  present  state  of  life,  which  had  raised  a 
fit  of  devotion  in  him,  he  threw  off  his  clotlies,  with  a design  to  wash 
himself,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Mahometans,  before  he  said 
his  pravers. 

“After  his  first  plunge  into  the  sea,  he  no  sooner  raised  his  head 
above  the  water,  but  he  found  himself  standing  by  the  side  of  the  tub, 
with  the  great  men  of  his  court  about  him,  and  the  holy  man  at  his 
side.  He  immediately  upbraided  his  teacher  for  having  sent  him  on 
such  a course  of  adventures,  and  betrayed  him  into  so  long  a state  of 
misery  and  servitude,  but  was  wonderfully  surprised  when  he  heard 
that  the  state  he  talked  of  Avas  only  a dream  and  a delusion ; that  he 
had  not  stirred  from  the  place  where  he  then  stood ; that  he  had  only 
dipped  his  head  into  the  Avater,  and  immediately  taken  it  out  again. 

“The  Mahometan  doctor  took  this  occasion  of  instructing  the  sultan, 
that  nothing  was  impossible  Avith  God;  that  he,  Avith  Avhom  a thousand 
years  are  but  as  one  day,  can,  if  he  pleases,  make  a single  day,  nay, 
a single  moment,  appear  to  any  of  his  creatures  as  a thousand  years.” 

If  life  may  thus  be  prolonged,  Avhy  Avill  it  not  hang  henYj  upon  us, 
as  it  does  with  many  now?  The  reason  is  this,  that  he  who  has  a 
constant  stream  of  useful  and  valuable  thoughts  passing  through  his 
mind,  will  enjoy  each  one  of  them,  Avhile  he  Avho  has  feAV  thoughts 
Avill  have  more  passio  is  in  exercise;  and  the  soul  soon  palls  upon  being 
forced  to  attend  only  to  the  passions.  ‘ ‘ The  latter  is  like  the  oAvner 
of  a barren  country,  that  fills  his  eye  with  the  prospect  of  naked  hills 
and  plains,  Avhich  produce  nothing,  either  profitable  or  ornamental; 
the  other  beholds  a beautiful  and  spacious  landscape,  divided  into  de- 
lightful gardens,  green  meadoAvs,  fruitful  fields,  and  can  scarce  cast 
his  eye  on  a single  spot  in  his  possessions,  that  is  not  covered  Avith 
some  beautiful  plant  or  floAver.  ’ ’ 

Some  men,  while  young,  rush  into  open,  high-handed  sin,  and  plunge 
headlong  into  guilt,  Avhich  quickly  leads  them  to  the  slaughter-house. 


WASTE  OF  TIME. 


tcH. 


i^ut  the  sin.  vvhmh.  of  nil  / h , 


except  the  drudgery  spent  oLV^o-il  lnrl  TrL^!!^.  f . t 

moments  and  hom-s  sufficient  to  have  made  you  T h^me^d 

SfS|i«sssps 

satisfy  conscience  that  you  have'not  time  o’fuS  theS  a^r'tut  th 
oLenSV  mn;  and  I S uThLCSyif  iure  y™  "S"'!!;™?*  “ 

one  and  no  ten  things  that  will  so  mucYaid  you  to  hnprte  vow  tim 

±tl£jS— 

tear  aSVli 

lours,  and  see  wherein  you  have  come  short  of  duty  and  what  vou 

oy  prayer  tens  you  should  have  been  done.  Alas'  how  manv  have 
squandered  this  precious  gift,  and  then,  when  they  came  to  lie  on  the 
^ death,  have  reproached  themselves  with  a keenness  of  rebuke 
which  language  was  too  poor  to  convey!  The  lofty  QueL  ElSbeth 
on  her  dying  bed,  cried  out,  “Millions  ohnoney  tovLeinX  of  time'’’ 
How  many  such  inches  had  she  thrown  away!  ^The  piercing  cry  came 


THE  EVENING  PARTY. 


CH.  VI.] 

too  late.  “O,”  said  one,  as  he  lay  dying,  “call  back  time  again:  if, 
you  can  caU  back  time  again,  then  there  may  be  hope  for  me;  but  time, 
is  gone!” 

“Where  is  that  thrift,  that  avarice  of  time. 

(Blest  avarice),  which  the  thought  of  death  inspires? 

O time!  than  gold  more  sacred;  more  a load 
Than  lead  to  fools;  and  fools  reputed  wise. 

What  moment  granted  man  without  account? 

What  vears  are  squander’d,  wisdom’s  debt  unpaid! 

Haste,‘'haste!  he  lies  in  wait,  he’s  at  the  door. 

Insidious  Death!  should  his  strong  hand  arrest, 

JSTo  composition  sets  the  prisoner  free. 

Eternity’s  inexorable  chain 

Fast  binds,  and  vengeance  claims  the  full  arrear. 

On  all-important  time,  through  every  age, 

Though  much  and  warm  the  wise  have  urged,  the  man  | 

Is  yet  unborn,  who  duly  weighs  an  hour. 

Who  murders  time,  he  crushes  in  the  birth 
A power  ethereal,  only  not  adored. 


VI. 

CONYEESATIOK 

“What  a delightful  evening  we  have  spent!”  said  a student  to  his 
companion,  as  thev  were  returning  home  from  a visit  during  vacation. 

“Yes,  I do  not  know  as  1 ever  spent  one  more  agreeably;  and  yet  I 
cannot  tell  exactly  what  it  was  that  rendered  it  so  agreeable.  The 
circle  all  seemed  to  be  happy,  and  parted  so ; but  for  myself,  I was  so 
taken  up  with  the  conversation  of  that  stranger,  that  I took  little  no> 

1 tice  of  what  the  rest  were  doing.” 

I • “That  was  precisely  my  own  case.  Without  seeming  to  know  it,  ha 
I possesses  uncommon  powers  of  conversation.” 

i And  this  was  the  whole  secret  of  the  pleasures  of  the  evening  that 
I there  was  one  in  the  circle,  who,  by  nature  and  education,  was  fitted 
to  instruct  and  please  by  his  conversation. 

There  are  few  things  more  neglected  than  the  cultivation  of  what  we 
denominate  conversational  powers  ; and  yet  few  which  be  more  sub' 
servient  to  bestowing  pleasure  and  advantage.  The  man  who  knows 
precisely  how  to  converse,  has  an  instrument  in  his  possession  with 
which  he  can  do  great  good,  and  which  will  make  him  welcome  in  all 
circles 

Take  notice  as  you  are  introduced  to  a stranger.  In  a short  time, 

7 


USE  IN  OBTAINING  INFORMATION. 


[ca. 


you  find  he  IS  interesting.  You  are  in  the  stage;  you  hear  him  an 
forget  the  time,  and  are  surprised  at  the  rapidity  with  which’  yo 
appioach  the  place  at  which  you  must  part.  "V^hat  makes  hiin 
powers  of  conversation. 

The  advantage  of  this  mode  of  commuicating  ideas  need  not  b 
dwelt  upon  here.  It  is  the  method  devised  by  the  infinite  Creator  fo 
the  happiness  of  man,  m all  circumstances.  It  is  the  most  perfec 
way  of  giving  and  receiving  instruction.  It  is  simple  as  are  all  hi 
works.  We  may  produce  strong,  dazzling  lights,  by  chemical  combina 
tions , but  the  pure  light  of  heaven  is  the  most  perfect.  We  may  tickl 
by  artificial  drinks,  but  the  pure  wLr  which  God  has  pro 
vided  for  man,  in  all  circumstances,  is  the  most  perfect  drink  Speech 
between  man  and  man,  is  the  universal  medium  of  transnfitS 
thought,  and  it  is,  by  far,  the  best  that  can  be  devised.  We  now  wis 
to  know  how  we  may  best  cultivate  and  use  this  faculty.  Every  on, 
feels  the  importance  of  this  knowledge.  If  you  have  a friend  Xn 
you  wish  to  warn,  or  upon  whose  mind  3-011  wish  to  make  a deep  im 
pression  you  know  the  most  perfect  way  of  doing  it  is  witli  the  tono-ue 
lou  first  think  over  his  situation,  his  prospects  and  dangers;  you  tliinl 
w’p  apologies  can  reasonably  be  offered  ami 

what  he  wil  probably  offer  for  himself;  you  then  tliink  of  the  mot 
with  which  to  impress  him.  You  then  go  to  him;  you  try,  hTtone 
and  voice,  to  convince  him  that  you  are  his  friend;  wu  tell  him  . ou 
fears  in  language  chosen  and  tender,  and  then  yon  pour  out  iou 
heart  upon  him  just  as  you  had  planned  beforehand.  ^You  are  per 
fectly  aware  that  you  have  used  the  best  and  most  appropriate  nmLm 
in  your  power,  when  you  have  exhausted  your  powers  of  persSn 

“^“e^iairof'dr^^^^  - this 

JpwSl'ii  r„.- 

perfectly  understands  it,  why  do  you  go  to  that  friend  and  hear  him 
comerse,  rather  than  to  the  book?  Because  you  know  that  the  latter’ 
method  IS  not  the  most  interesting  and  easy  way  of  obtaining  informa- 
t’^p-  .You  can  ask  light  on  particular  points;  you  can  state  your 
objections;  you  can  compare  with  what  you  already  know  you^can 
soon  know  aU  that  your  informer  knows.  Varillas  has  said  t/at  “Of 
which  he  knew  he  had  learned  nine  from  conversation  ’’  * 

Make  It  a matter  of  study,  then,  to  understand  this  subject  and  no^' 
merely  try  to  free  yourself  from  faults,  but  to  make  it  an  accomplish 
ment  a part  of  your  education.  There  is  scarcely  any  way  by  whicl 
you  can  gam  a stronger  hold  upon  the  circles  in  which  you  may  move 


CH.  VI.]  STUDENT  SHOULD  CULTIVATE  HIS  powers:  ‘ ‘ 99 

OT  in  which  you  may  do  more  good.  In  conversation  all  are  freeboot- 
3rs,  and  may  carry  away  and  appropriate  to  themselves  as  much  as 
they  can;  and  there  is  a vast  quantity  of  thought  and  informatio]i 
afloat  upon  the  great  mass  of  intelligent  mind,  which  never  has  been, 
and  never  will  be,  committed  to  paper.  He  who  is  permitted  to  draw 
from  this  great  fountain,  can  hardly  fail  of  having  thought  poured  upon 
him  sufficient  to  render  him  intelligent,  even  though  he  should  never 
apen  a book.  You  will  see  this  every  day  in  our  cities.  There  tlie 
niass  of  men  are  too  busy  and  hurried  to  read.  They  do  not  read ; and 
vet,  when  you  meet  a man  from  the  city,  you  expect  to  find  him  an 
interesting  and  an  intelligent  man.  If  he  has  long  resided  there,  you 
will  hardl}^  be  disappointed.  The  reason  is  obvious:  he  is  thrown 
where  all  this  thought  is  floating  from  mind  to  mind ; where  mind  is 
3onstantly  coming  into  contact  with  mind;  and  he  feels  the  influence. 
k light  that  is  hardly  seen  when  standing  alone,  will,  when  placed 
unong  others,  not  only  give  but  receive  light. 

This  constant,  direct  contact  of  mind  with  mind  invariably  tends  to 
5often  and  refine  the  feelings ; so  that,  when  you  hear  it  said  of  a man, 
chat  he  keeps  the  best  of  company,  you  have  no  doubt  but  he  is  a man 
3f  refinement  and  politeness.  The  language  which  he  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  use  has,  at  least,  the  appearance  of  conveying  refined  thought 
md  feeling,  and  we  insensibly  conform  our  feelings  to  the  dress  in 
which  we  clothe  them.  An  actor  who  personifies  a king  or  a hero, 
md  uses  his  language,  frequently  feels  that  he  is  what  he  represents ; 
md,  were  he  never  to  put  off  the  habits  and  language,  which  he  rep- 
resents for  a few  hours,  he  would  soon  use  the  language  of  kings  as  his 
3wn,  and  have  his  feelings  correspond.  There  are  two  dangers  to 
which  people  in  cities,  and  to  which  those  who  are  similarly  situated, 
may  be  exposed : the  one  is,  that  of  using  the  language  of  kindness  and 
refinement  till  it  becomes  a habit,  when  they  do  not  feel  it,  and  thus 
make  dupes  of  others,  and  soon  make  dupes  of  themselves.  Any  hy- 
pocrisy may  be  practiced  till  it  no  longer  seems  a borrowed  character. 
A.t  any  rate,  there  is  danger  that,  when  the  forms  are  greatly  studied, 
the  heart,  under  those  forms,  is  seldom  exercised;  The  other  danger 
is,  that  the  information  gathered  from  conversation  alone  may  be  in- 
sorrect,  and  yet  be  esteemed  of  good  authority.  'No  information  thus 
acquired  can  be  relied  upon.  Books  are  the  only  correct  reporters  of 
facts ; and  even  they  will  sometimes  invent  facts,  and  imagine  history. 
A man  who  relies  solely  upon  conversation  and  society  for  stocking  his 
mind,  will  be  a very  ready  man,  a very  inaccurate  man,  and  conse- 
quently, incapable  of  being  an  accurate  judge.  He  can  amuse  yon-— 


100 


talking  upon  T1UFLE8. 


[CH.  v; 


of  things;  bntyo, 

commuST  f »"\rc.S’Zte  over  all  other  classes  of  th. 

wiiw,  i;„  (i,i 

Y™  «,t  an  ungenerous  ^n,  if  thin 

£PiSiMrre:;tv-“ 

(riL:""  “*  “Z"*’  » «&•«»  .5~ 


SEVERE  SPEAKING. 


101 


CH.  VI.] 

quently  of  no  other  use,  in  company,  than  to  give  countenance  to 
trifling,  when  they  might  and  ought  to  be  used  to  give  a right  direction 
to  the  conversation,  and  rightly  influence  the  excited,  interested  minds 
present.  There  should  be  a bearing  toward  usefulness  which  is  sys- 
tematic. The  want  of  this  is  a great  deficiency.  Even  Kobert  Hall 
failed  here.  “Often,  indeed,  has  Mr.  Hall  lamented  this  defect:  often, 
as  we  have  been  returning  from  a party,  which  he  kept  alive  by  the 
brilliancy  and  variety  of  his  observations,  has  he  said,  ‘ Ah,  sir,  I have 
again  contributed  to  the  loss  of  an  evening,  as  to  everything  truly 
valuable : go  home  with  me,  that  we  may  spend,  at  least,  one  hour  in. 
a manner  which  becomes  us.  ’ ” 

A man  given  to  severe  study  and  thought  is  in  peculiar  danger  here; 
for,  when  he  goes  into  society  he  drops  all  study,  forgets  the  train  of 
thought  in  which  he  had  been  engaged,  and  at  once  has  his  spirits,  not 
elastic,  merely,  but  even,  at  times,  highly  excited.  Then  the  tempta- 
tion is  to  forget  that  he  ought  to  use  his  knowledge  and  talents  to 
instruct  and  enlighten  that  circle  of  friends ; and  that  if  he  does  not 
improve  the  opportunity,  he  throws  all  the  weight  of  his  character 
iuto  the  vote  to  drive  all  valuable  thoughts  and  conversation  from  the 
room.  I do  not  mean  that  you  are  to  strive  to  monopolize  the  con- 
versation, to  shine  and  show  yourself,  and  your  attainments.  Far 
otherwise.  But  I mean  that  you  should  not  waste  your  time,  and  the 
time  of  those  who  are  kind  enough  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say,  in 
saying  things  which  might  be  said  and  repeated  to  the  end  of  time, 
and  no  human  being  would  be  either  the  wiser  or  the  better.  Do 
nothing  Avhich  has  the  appearance  of  superiority;  but  he  Avho  relies 
upon  his  “small  talk”  to  render  him  long  useful  or  agreeable  in  society, 
has  much  mistaken  human  nature.  It  may  be  pleasant  and  pretty ; 
but  who  would  thank  you  to  iiiAute  him  to  dine  frequently  upon  cus- 
tards and  ice-creams?  If  you  leaA^e  a company  without  being  able  to 
reflect  that  you  are  wiser,  or  have  made  somebody  else  wiser,  than 
when  you  entered  it,  there  is  soinething  wrong  in  the  case. 

2.  Beioare  of  severe  speaking  in  company. 

Ho  matter  Avhether  the  company  be  large  or  small,  you  may  be  sure 
that  all  you  say  against  an  absent  person  will  reach  him.  You  have 
done  wrong,  and  an  a^mnger  Avill  be  found.  I admire  the  Avarning 
which  St.  Austin  is  said  to  have  inscribed  in  the  center  of  his  table  at 
Avhich  he  entertained  his  friends — 

“Quisquis  amat  dictis  absentem  rodere  amicum, 

Hanc  mensam  indignam  noverit  esse  sibi.” 

There  is  an  almost  universal  propensity  in  manlcind  to  slander  each 


103 


CONSEQ  UENGE8  OF  DETRACTION. 


[CH.  VI. 


other,  or,  at  least,  to  throw  out  hints  which  detract  from  the  good 
opinion  which  they  suppose  may  be  entertained  of  their  fellows.  The 
detractor  cheats  himself  most  egregiously,  but  never  others.  He  tacitly 
believes  that  he  is  pushing  this  one,  and  thrusting  that  one,  ^vith  the 
charitable  purpose  of  keeping  the  unworthy  out  of  the  seat  of  those 
who  merit  the  esteem  of  all.  remember  to  have  read  in  Diodorus 
Siculus  an  account  of  a very  active  little  animal,  which,  I think,  he 
calls  the  ichneumon,  that  makes  it  the  whole  business  of  his  life  to 
break  the  eggs  of  the  .crocodile,  which  he  is  always  in  search  after. 
This  instinct  is  the  more  remarkable,  because  the  ichneumon  never  feeds 
upon  the  eggs  he  has  broken,  nor  in  any  other  way  finds  his  account 
in  them.  Were  it  not  for  the  incessant  labors  of  this  industrious  ani- 
mal, Egypt,  says  the  historian,  would  be  overrun  with  crocodiles : for 
the  Egyptians  are  so  far  from  destroying  these  pernicious  creatures, 
that  they  worship  them  as  gods.” 

Do  not  those  who  may  be  denominated  detractors  of  mankind,  con- 
gratulate themselves  that  they  are  disinterested,  like  this  little  animal, 
and  are  really  acting  the  part  of  benefactors  of  mankind?  They  prob- 
ably  deceive  themselves  so  frequently  5 but  the  deception  is  only  upon 
themselves.  But  how  do  others  view  them  ? The  rest  of  the  world  • 
know  that  if  you  detract,  it  is  for  the  same  reason  that  the  Tartars  are  ' 
eager  to  kill  every  man  of  extraordinary  endowments  and  accomplish- 
ments, firmly  believing  that  his  talents,  how  great  or  high  soever,  and  ' 
what  station  soever  they  qualified  him  to  occupy,  will,  upon  his  death, 
become,  as  a matter  of  course,  the  property  of  the  destroyer.  Were 
this  theory  correct,  it  would  be  an  apology  for  those  who  indulge  in 
severe  remarks  upon  the  absent;  for  in  most  cases,  it  would  be  their 
only  hope  of  possessing  great  excellences  of  character.  What  you  say  ‘ 
in  detraction  will  not  merely  reach  the  ear  of  the  individual  against ' ' 
whom  it  is  said,  but  it  will  prejudice  the  circle  against  him.  We  love  , 
to  be  prejudiced  against  people;  and  while  you  may  say  ten  clever 
things  of  him,  which  are  forgotten,  the  two  or  three  which  you  say  . 
against  him  will  be  remernbered.  Hor  is  this  all.  Such  remarks  leave  ; 
a sting  in  your  own  conscience.  You  cannot  thus  speak  disparagingly  ^ 
of  the  absent,  without  giving  conscience  the  right  to  call  you  to  an 
account,  and  tell  you,  in  language  which  cannot  be  misconstrued,  you  ^ 
have  done  wrong,  and  not  as  you  would  be  done  by. 

Aristophanes  was  the  enemy  of  Socrates:  he  slandered  him  and  f 
abused  him,  and  even  wrote  a comedy  to  ridicule  him,  and  especially  -3 
his  notions  of  the  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  As  Socrates 
wp  present  to  see  the  comedy  acted  upon  the  stage,  and  was  not  at  J 
^11  moved,  it  was  thought  that  he  did  not  feel  this  dastardly  tre^i-tment,  3 


PHtLOSOPRY  OF  FLATTmt. 


loa 


Tl.] 


;But  it  has  been  remarked,  by  an  acute  observer,  that  he  did  feel  it 
I most  deeply,  though  too  wise  to  show  it ; for,  as  he  was  taking  the 
bowl  of  poison,  and  about  to  drink  it  oif,  as  he  was  entertaining  his 
friends  and  strengthening  his  own  mind  by  a conversation  on  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  he  remarked,  that  he  did  not  believe  the  most 
comic  genius  could  blame  him  for  talking  on  such  a subject  at  such  an 
hour.  He  probably  had  his  detractor,  Aristophanes,  in  his  mind,  in 
making  this  remark. 

“He  that  indulges  himself  in  ridiculing  the  little  imperfections  and 
weaknesses  of  his  friend,  will,  in  time,  hnd  mankind  united  against 
him.  The  man  who  sees  another  ridiculed  before  him,  though  he  may, 
for  the  present,  concur  in  the  general  laugh,  yet,  in  a cool  hour,  will 
consider  the  same  trick  might  be  played  against  himself;  but,  when 
there  is  no  sense  of  this  danger,  the  natural  pride  of  human  nature 
rises  against  him,  who,  by  general  censure,  lays  claim  to  general 
superiority.”  Unless  you  have  had  your  attention  particularly  called 
to  this  subject,  you  are  probably  not  aware  how  many  of  these  light 
arrows  are  shot  at  those  who  are  absent. 

An  honest  fellow  was  introduced  into  the  most  fashionable  circle  of 
a country  village,  and  though  he  was  neither  learned  nor  brilliant,  yet 
he  passed  off  very  well.  But  he  had  one  incorrigible  fault : he  always 
stayed  so  as  to  be  the  last  person  who  left  the  room.  At  length,  he 
was  asked,  categorically,  why  he  always  stayed  so  long.  He  replied 
with  great  good -nature  and  simplicity,  that  “as  soon  as  a man  was 
gone,  they  all  began  to  talk  against  him;  and,  consequently,  he  thought 
it  always  judicious  to  stay  till  none  were  left  to  slander  him.” 

The  habit  of  flattering  your  friends  and  acquaintances  is  pernicious 
to  your  own  character.  It  will  injure  yourself  more  than  others.  It 
is  well  understood  among  men,  that  he  who  is  in  the  habit  of  flatter- 
! ing,  expects  to  be  repaid  in  the  same  coin,  and  that  too  with  compound 
interest.  This  is  a very  different  thing  from  bestowing  that  encour- 
agement upon  your  friend  in  private  which  he  needs  for  the  purpose  of 
calling  forth  praiseworthy  efforts.  Flattery  is  usually  bestowed  in 
public — probably  for  the  purpose  of  having  witnesses,  before  whom 
your  friend  now  stands  committed,  to  return  what  you  are  now  ad- 
vancing to  him.  But  judicious  encouragement  AviU  always  be  given  in 
private.  If  you  flatter  others,  they  will  feel  bound  to  do  so  to  you; 
and  they  certainly  will  do  it.  They  well  know  that  there  is  no  other 
way  in  which  they  can  cancel  the  obligations  which  you  have  imposed 
upon  them;  because  no  compensation  but  this  will  be  satisfactory. 
Thus  vou  hire  others  to  aid  you  to  become  your  own  dupe,  and  over- 
estimate your  excellences,  whatever  they  may  be.  For  a very  obvious 


104 


LEVITT. 


[CH.  Vd 

re^on,  then  you  will  deny  yourself  the  luxury  of  being  flattered 
And  especially  do  not  fish  for  such  pearls.  You  cannot  do  it,  in  i 
single  instance,  without  having  the  motive  seen  thrpugli.  You  mai 
wfi'Lt  astonished  at  seeing  young  men  greedily  swallow  praise, 
when  they  could  not  but  know  that  he  who  was  daubing  was  insincere 
It  used  to  be  a matter  of  surprise  to  me,  how  it  is  that  we  love  praise 
even  when  we  know  that  we  do  not  deserve  it.  Johnson,  at  a sino-le 
plunge,  has  found  the  philosophy  of  the  fact.  ‘ ‘ To  be  flattered,  ’ ’ says 
he,  IS  grateful,  even  when  we  know  that  our  praises  are  not  believed 
by  those  who  pronounce  them;  for  they  prove  at  least  our  power,  and 

purcliased  by  the  meanness  of 
falsehood  The  desire  of  the  approbation  of  others,  for  their  good 
opinion  alone,  is  said  to  be  the  mark  of  a generous  mind.  I have  no 
doubt  it  IS  so.  Against  this  desire  I am  breathing  no  reproach  It  is 
the  character  ascribed  to  Garrick  by  Goldsmith,  against  which  I am 
warning  you.  ° 


Of  piaise  a mere  glutton,  he  swallow’d  what  cam© 
And  the  puff  of  a dunce,  he  mistook  it  for  fame; 
Till,  his  relish  grown  callous,  almost  to  disease,  ’ 
Who  pepper’d  the  highest  was  surest  to  please. 

But  let  us  be  candid,  and  speak  out  our  mind: 

If  dunces  applauded,  he  paid  them  in  kind.” 


3.  wer  indulge  in  levity  upon  what  is  sacred. 

It  is  nearly  impossible  to  treat  any  sacred  subject  with  levity,  in  a 
mixed  company,  without  greatly  wounding  the  sensibilities  of  some  one 
It  IS  no  mark  of  strength  of  intellect,  or  of  freedom  from  prejudice  or 
quality,  to  do  it.  It  shows  nothing  but  a heart  tliat  sins 
^nthout  excitement  and  without  temptation.  He  who  can  speak 
ightly  of  God,  his  Maker,  and  his  best  Friend,  or  of  anythin that 
pertains  to  him,  Avill  always  be  known  to  carry  a heart  that  wilf easily 
yield  to  a temptation  to  treat  an  earthly  friend  in  the  same  way.  You 
may  set  it  down  as  a rule  to  Avhich  there  are  no  exceptions,  that  he 
who  treats  religion,  or  any  of  the  ordinances  of  his  God,  with  light- 
ness and  irreverence,  carries  a selfish  heart,  and  is  not  fit  to  be  your 
bosom  friend.  Levity  of  manner,  or  matter,  in  regard  to  sacred  tinners, 
AVill  rum  your  character,  or  that  of  any  other  man.  Hear  the  testi- 
mony of  one  who  Avas  “unquestionably  one  of  the  first  preachers— per- 
haps the  very  first  preacher  of  his  time.”  “I  set  out  Avith  levity  in 
the  pipit.  It  was  above  tAvo  years  before  I could  get  the  victory  over 
It,  though  I strove  under  sharp  piercings  of  conscience.  My  plan  Avas 
wrong.  I had  bad  counselors.  I thought  preaching  Avas  only  enter- 
ing the  pulpit,  and  letting  off  a sermon.  I talked  AAfith  a wise  and 


PROFANE  LANG  UA  GE. 


105 


m.  VI.  J 

Lious  man  on  the  subject.  ‘There  is  nothing,’  said  he,  ‘like  appealing 
;0  facts.  ’ We  sat  down  and  named  names.  We  found  men  in  my 
iiabit  disreputable.  This  first  set  my  mind  right.  I saw  such  a man 
night  sometimes  succeed ; but  I saw,  at  the  same  time,  that  whoever 
vould  succeed  in  his  general  interpretations  of  Scripture,  and  would 
lave  his  ministry  that  ‘of  a workman  that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed,’ 
aust  be  a laborious  man.  What  can  be  produced  by  men  who  refuse 
his  labor? — a few  raw  notions,  harmless^  perhaps,  in  themselves,  but 
alse  as  stated  by  them.” 

I need  hardly  allude  to  the  practice  of  profane  language;  for  1 have 
lo  expectation  that  any  one  who  has  so  far  forgotten  what  self-respect 
emands — to  say  nothing  about  higher  claims — as  to  use  such  language, 
rill  read  a book  like  this.  Such  are  seldom  seen  in  company  as  repu- 
able  as  a book  designed  to  do  them  good.  But  still,  some  may  be 
xposed  to  the  temptation,  who  never  yet  yielded  to  it.  Lord  Chester- 
ield,  who  is  universally  quoted  as  a master  in  the  school  of  politeness, 
.eclares  that  such  language  is  never  that  of  a gentleman.  When  you 
.ear  any  one  use  profane  language,  you  will  not  wrong  him  if  you 
onclude,  that  this  is  only  one  of  a nest  of  vipers  which  he  carries  in  ( 
is  heart;  and  although  this  is  the  only  one  which  now  hisses,  yet  each, 

1 his  turn,  is  master  of  the  poor  wretch  who  is  giving  his  life-blood  to 
3ed  them. 

In  France,  men  frequently  hold  both  civil  and  ecclesiastical  offices, 
^n  elector,  who  was  also  an  archbishop,  was  one  day  very  profane 
efore  a peasant.  Seeing  the  man  stare,  he  asked  him  at  what  he  was 
0 much  amazed. 

“To  hear  an  archbishop  swear,”  was  the  reply. 

‘ ‘ I swear,  ’ ’ said  the  elector,  ‘ ‘ not  as  an  archbishop,  but  as  a prince.  ’ ’ 

“But,  my  lord,”  said  the  peasant,  “when  the  devil  gets  the  prince^ 
7hat  will  become  of  the  archbishop?” 

'‘A  Persian,  humble  servant  of  the  sun, 

AVho,  though  devout,  yet  bigotry  had  none, 

Hearing  a lawyer,  grave  in  his  address, 

"With  adjurations  every  word  impress. 

Supposed  the  man  a bishop,  or  at  least — 

God’s  name  so  much  upon  his  lips — a priest. 

Bow’d,  at  the  close,  with  all  his  graceful  airs. 

And  begg’d  an  interest  in  his  frequent  prayers.” 

Every  approach  to  anything  like  profaneness  ought,  at  once  and  for- 
ver,  to  be  banished.  If  you  wish  to  fit  yourself  for  the  dark  world,  it 
vill  be  time  enough  to  learn  its  language  after  you  have  prepared  for 
t by  more  decent  sins,  I am  happy  to  say,  that  an  oath  is  now  seldom 


106 


TOPICS  OF  CONVERSATION. 


[CH.  VI. 


heard  among  people  who  lay  any  claim  to  respectability,  and  that  I 
have  not  heard  one  for  years,  except  where  I had  evidence  that  it  was 
stimulated,  and  was  borne  on  breath  tainted  and  poisoned  by  ardent 
spirit.  Politeness  needs  not  embellishments  which  belong  to  spirits 
accursed  ; and  truth  and  sincerity  always  despise  and  disdain  such 
auxiliaries. 

4.  Be  careful  in  introducing  topics  of  conversation. 

There  are  some  people  who  move  in  a sphere  so  contracted,  and  the 
range  of  their  thoughts  is  in  so  narrow  a circle,  that  you  can  anticipate 
what  are  to  be  the  topics  of  conversation,  what  stories  you  must  hear 
repeated,  and  where  the  circle  will  return  into  itself.  If  you  allow 
yourself  to  have  favorite  topics,  you  will  insensibly  and  surely  run  into 
this  habit.  Nothing  can  be  more  tiresome  and  unwelcome  than  such  a 
talker.  The  same  round  is  to  be  passed  over,  the  same  compliments 
repeated,  the  same  jests  broached.  To  avoid  the  possibility  of  this, 
some  writers  will  advise  you  to  make  use  of  your  last  reading  in  con- 
versation ; and  thus  you  will  have  topics  and  a store  of  information  to 
communicate.  The  objections  to  making  this  a rule,  in  my  mind,  are 
great.  It  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  honest.  Your  hearer  is  led  to  sup- 
pose that  you  are  now  using  information  which  you  have  some  time  or 
other  acquired — that  it  is  a part  of  your  capital,  and  not  that  which ' 
you  have  just  borrowed.  Is  it  fair  for  a scholar  who  has  just  laid  down 
the  writings  of  Aristophanes,  to  come  into  company,  and  talk  about  ^ 
“the  Crown;”  how  keen  it  was;  how  Socrates  winced  under  it;  and 
how  much  ground  there  was  for  the  satire  ? Perhaps  I have  never 
heard  of  ‘ ‘ the  Crovm’  ’ before,  nor  have  any  of  the  company.  Perhaps 
he  had  not,  two  days  since.  He  may  inform  us  of  his  discovery,  and 
amuse  and  instruct  us  with  the  information ; but  if  he  talks  about  it  as 
if  it  were  one  among  the  thousand  things  which  he  knows,  and  thus 
palms  it  off  upon  us  as  if  it  were  a part  of  his  capital,  he  deceives  us, 
and  it  is  dishonorable  to  do  so. 

Some  will  go  out  of  their  way  to  harp  upon  topics  which  they  suppose  ' 
particularly  agreeable  to  you,  and  thus  flatter  you  by  talking  upon ' 
what  they  suppose  you  are  particularly  pleased  with ; just  as  if  they 
were  to  invite  you  to  dine,  and  then  load  your  plate  with  some  odd 
food,  of  which  they  supposed  you  were  particularly  fond,  though  they 
and  the  company  loathed  it.  It  is  worse  than  insulting  you,  because  you 
have  all  the  mortification  of  the  insult,  without  the  poAver  of  resenting  it. 
If,  for  example,  a man  knows  me  to  be  a Calvinist  in  my  religious  opin- 
ion, and  spends  his  breath,  every  time  he  meets  me,  in  lauding  John 
Calvin — in  praising  the  Puritans — Avhen  I know  that,  in  his  heart,  he 
despises  both — I do  not  thank  him  for  taking  all  this  pains  to  ticlile 


CM.  VI.] 


TOPICS  OF  CONVERSATION. 


me.  If  he  sincerely  desires  information  on  these,  or  any  other  sub- 
jects with  which  he  supposes  me  to  be  acquainted,  he  does  me  a kind- 
ness by  giving  me  the  opportunity  to  communicate  what  I know;  but 
if  the  subject  be  dragged  in,  and  that  frequently,  few  things  can  be 
more  nauseous.  The  reproof  which  was  given  to  one  who  indulged  in 
this  practice  was  severe,  but  just.  A man  supposed  his  acquaintance 
particularly  fond  of  conversing  about  the  characters  drawn  in  Scripture, 
and  took  every  opportunity  to  bring  these  upon  the  tapis.  “I  affirm,” 
said  he,  on  one  of  these  occasions,  “that  this  Samson  was  the  strongest 
man  that  ever  lived,  or  ever  will  live.” 

“It  is  not  so,”  said  he  for  whose  special  gratification  the  subject  was 
introduced — ‘ ‘ it  is  not  so : you  yourself  are  a stronger  man  than  Sam- 
son. ’ ’ 

“How  can  that  be?” 

“Why  you  have  just  lugged  him  in,  by  head  and  shoulders!” 

Conversation  is  an  intellectual  feast ; and  it  cannot  be  enjoyed  if  each 
one  m ust  have  a particular  dish  by  himself ; and  to  suppose  that  you 
cannot  eat  the  same  dish  that  the  rest  do,  is  treating  you  unhand- 
somely. You  do  not  wish  to  have  a little  table  spread  in  the  corner  for 
yourself  alone^  but  to  enjoy  the  feast  in  common.  Remember,  then, 
that  the  treatment  which  would  be  disagreeable  to  you,  will  be  equally 
unpleasant  to  others ; and  be  careful  to  avoid  a practice  very  common, 
but  which  always  gives  pain. 

As  a topic  of  conversation,  you  cannot  do  better  than  to  introduce 
yourself  as  little  as  possible.  We  are  all  in  danger  of  this ; but,  probably 
the  danger  decreases  from  youth  to  old  age.  “It  is  a hard  and  nice 
subject  for  a man  to  speak  of  himself,”  says  Cowley;  “it  grates  upon 
his  own  heart  to  say  anything  of  disparagement,  and  the  reader’s  ears, 
to  hear  anything  of  praise  from  him.”  It  is  especially  dangerous  to 
speak  of  yourself,  if  your  circumstances  are  such  that  you  are,  in  any 
way,  tempted  to  ask  for  aid.  A beggar  will  be  relieved,  if  his  wants 
are  real,  and  known.  But  if  he  takes  pains  to  expose  his  sores,  those 
who  would  otherwise  befriend  him,  turn  away  in  disgust.  Say  as  little 
about  yourself,  your  friends,  your  deeds,  as  possible ; for  if  you  say  any 
thing,  it  is  supposed  to  be  done  for  the  purpose  of  challenging  admira- 
tion or  pity.  A good  writer  recommends  his  readers  not  to  talk  about 
themselves,  unless  they  are  of  some  consideration  in  the  world.  But 
this  rule  is  unsafe.  For  who  is  there  that  is  not,  in  his  own  opinion, 
of  consequence  enough  to  be  the  subject  of  conversation? 

If  not  exceedingly  careful,  you  will  be  in  danger  of  repeating  old 
jests,  as  if  new,  and,  perhaps,  of  appropriating  to  yourself,  as  your 
own,  what  was  said  generations  before  you  were  born.  You  have 


ios  * 


UmiOB  ABB  wi^. 


[cH.  Vi. 


heard,  or  have  read,  the  hon  onot:  the  circumstance  of  reading  or  hear- 
ing it  has  escaped  your  mind,  while  the  jest  remains.  You  repeat  it, 
and  will  be  mortified  at  some  future  time,  to  find  in  print  what,  for 
years,  you  had  supposed  your  own  property,  honestly  acquired.  It  is 
better  to  pass  for  a man  of  plain,  common  sense,  in  ordinary  conversa- 
tion, than  to  attempt  to  be  brilliant  or  facetious  at  an  expense  which 
you  cannot  well  bear  for  any  length  of  time.  Few  can  deal  in  this 
commodity,  without  feeling  their  need  of  borrowing;  and  he  who  is  in 
the  habit  of  borrowing,  will  soon  cease  to  remember  that  what  he 
freely  uses  is  not  his  own. 

^ While  upon  this  subject,  I may  say  that,  if  you  are  tempted  to 
indulge  in  humor  and  wit,  you  are  beset  in  a Aveak  and  dangerous  spot. 
Wit,  and  the  faculty  of  producing  smart  sayings  may  be  cultivated. 
They  are  so;  and  I have  known  a company  thrown  into  shouts  of 
laughter  by  sallies  and  strokes  Avhich  were  taken  to  be  impromptu,  but 
which  would  have  been  welcomed  Avith  coolness,  had  it  been  knoAAui 
that  they  AA^ere  studied  and  arranged  in  private.  This  must  always, 
more  or  less,  be  the  case  Avith  smart  sayings;  and  the  great  talent 
displayed,  is  in  passing  them  off  as  if  they  Avere  the  creations  of  the 
mornent.  There  m^e  tvA^o  special  dangers  in  the  indulgence  of  Avit:  the 
one  is,  that  it  is  impossible  to  fiourish  a tool  so  sharp,  Avithout  Avound- 
ing  others.  Strive  against  it  as  much  as  you  please,  your  best  jokes 
and  keenest  arrews  AAfill  be  spent  upon  men,  and  upon  living  charac- 
ters. This  Avill  cause  enmities  and  heart-burnings.  Enemies,  and 
bitter  enemies,  he  must  have,  who  tries  to  be  a Avit.  And  when  you 
hear  of  a man  who  “had  rather  lose  a friend  than  a joke,”  you  may 
be  sure  that  he  Avill  soon  cease  to  be  troubled  by  the  otficiousness  of 
friendship.  Every  man  knows  that  he  has  peculiarities  and  Aveaknesses 
of  his  own ; but  they  are  a part  of  his  nature : and  he  cannot,  and  Avill 
not,  loA^e  a man  AAdio  wounds  him  through  these.  These  weaknesses  are 
ours ; and  though  Ave  may  feel  ashamed  of  them,  as  Ave  are  of  our 
“poor  relations,”  yet  Ave  do  not  like  to  have  them  ridiculed.  We  repel 
the  man  Avho  feels  so  conscious  of  superiority,  that  he  may  sport  Avith 
the  characters  of  others.  He  may  excite  the  laugh,  and  he  may  be 
flattered  for  a Avhile,  but  it  must  be  among  those  whom  he  has  tacitly 
proniised  to  spare.  The  second  danger  of  trying  to  be  a Avit,  is,  that 
you  injure  your  oAvn  mind.  Ho  one  can  be  a wit  Avithout  assiduously 
cultivating  peculiar  and  odd  associations  of  ideas.  The  thoughts  must 
run  in  channels  unknoAvn  to  common  minds.  A strange  light  must 
invest  everything  at  Avhich  you  look ; and  the  mind  soon  becomes  hab- 
ituated to  eccentric  associations.  The  result  Avill  be,  that  the  mind 
ceases  to  be  a Avell  balanced  instrument  of  acquiring  or  communicating 


Cfl.  VI.]  QWTim  LATIN  AND  GREEK.  l09 

information.  And  the  man  who  sets  out  to  be  a wit,  will  probably 
succeed  so  far  as  to  be  second-rate,  and  useless  for  every  thing  besides. 
The  character  of  a witling,  as  drawn  by  the  pen  of  Gil  Bias,  is  true  to 
the  life.  “He  is,  moreover,  the  most  self-conceited  man  in  Spain; 
though  he  spent  the  first  sixty  years  of  life  in  the  grossest  ignorance, 
but,  in  order  to  become  learned,  he  employed  a preceptor,  who  has 
taught  him  to  spell  in  Latin  and  Greek.  Besides,  he  has  got  an  infin- 
ite number  of  good  stories  by  heart,  which  he  has  repeated  and  vouched 
so  often,  that,  at  length,  he  actually  believes  them  to  be  true.  These 
he  brings  into  conversation ; and  one  may  say,  that  his  wit  shines  at 
the  expense  of  his  memory. It  is  important,  also,  to  remember,  that 
he  who  says  a great  many  brilliant  things,  says  a vast  many  that  are 
weak  and  foolish ; for  pearl-divers  always  find  that  the  waters  which 
yield  the  most  sparkling  pearls,  yield  also  the  most  shells.  The  best 
that  can  be  hoped  for  is,  that  the  few  witty  things  that  are  said  may 
be  retained  and  repeated,  while  the  Avorthless  may  be  forgotten. 

‘ ‘ Silva,  ’ ’ said  one  of  the  archest  among  them,  ‘ ‘ we  shall  make  some- 
thing of  thee,  my  friend.  I perceive  thou  hast  a fund  of  genius,  but 
dost  not  know  how  to  use  it  to  advantage.  Tiie  fear  of  speaking  non- 
sense hinders  thee  from  talking  at  a venture;  and  yet,  by  this  alone,  a 
thousand  people  now-a-days  acquire  the  reputation  of  wits.  If  thou 
hast  a mind  to  shine,  give  rein  to  thy  vivacity,  and  indifferently  risk 
everything  that  comes  uppermost : thy  blunders  will  pass  for  a noble 
boldness;  and  if,  after  having  uttered  a thousand  impertinences,  one 
witticism  escapes  thee,  the  silly  things  will  be  forgot,  the  lucky  thought 
will  be  remembered,  and  the  .world  will  conceive  a high  opinion  of  thy 
merit.  This  is  what  every  man  must  do  who  aspires  to  the  reputation 
of  a distinguished  wit.  ’ ’ 

You  will  be  careful,  also,  in  conversation,  not  to  make  any  display  of 
knowledge  or  superior  learning.  Ho  company  like  to  confess  that  they 
are  ignorant;  and  Vvdien  one  makes  a parade  of  his  knowledge,  it  is  a 
silent  invitation  for  them  to  acknowledge  his  superiority,  and  to  confess 
that  all  the  rest  are  ignorant.  Ho  invitation  could  scarcely  be  more 
unpleasant.  I once  knew  a student  do  his  utmost  to  be  popular  in  the 
social  circle,  but  without  success.  It  was  difficult  to  discover  the  rea- 
son ; but  a single  evening  explained  the  whole.  He  quoted  Latin  and 
talked  in  Greek,  and  took  great  delight  in  tracing  things  up  to  their 
sources:  thus,  for  example,  he  took  great  pains  to  show  the  company 
that  the  term  comedy  had  somewhat  lost  its  original  meaning,  for  it 
Avas  composed  of  homo.,  street,  and  odo,  song,  meaning  a street- song, 
which  they  used  to  act  in  a cart,  in  the  streets  of  the  city.  This  Avas 
aU  true,  but  the  pedantry  Avas  insufferable.  It  is  no  evidence  of  learn- 


lid 


now  TO  tJ8E  ANECDOfES.  - 


[Cfl.  Vt 


ing,  since  a single  hour  spent  over  Webster’s  large  dictionary  would 
produce  learning  enough  to  torment  a circle  the  whole  evening.  He 
who  is  really  a scholar,  will  make  but  little  noise  about  it.  The  half- 
educated  physician,  who  is  constantly  afraid  that  you  will  suspect  him 
of  Ignorance,  is  the  man  who  uses  the  hard  teclinicalities  of  the  profes- 
sion, and  turns  even  the  precise  terms  of  the  pharmacopoeia  into  bom- 
bast. It  is  probably  for  this  reason,  also,  that  pedantry  is  so  odious. 
If  you  meet  a man  who  spouts  Latin,  and  bores  you  with  Greek,  you 
may  generally  pppose  that  his  learning  is  about  as  deep  as  is  the 
courage  of  the  impudent  house-dog,  who  barks  loudly  whenever  you 
pass  his  master’s  house.  If  you  are  among  students  alone,  the  case  is 
altered ; but,  in  mixed  companies,  the  cases  are  rare  in  which  even  a 
pun  or  jest  is  welcomed,  if  it  must  come  in  an  unknown  tongue. 

In  all  your  conversation,  be  careful  to  maintain  purity  of  thought. 
All  approaches  toward  what  is  indelicate,  will  be  at  once  discounte- 
nanced by  all  good  society.  Indeed,  you  can  find  none  who  are  pleased 
^yith  it.  The  vilest  person  is  displeased  with  double  entendres^  and  the 
like,  in  company.  The  reason  is  obvious.  Hone  love  to  have  so  much 
disrespect  shown  them  as  must  be,  when  you  take  it  for  granted  that 
they  will  be  pleased  with  such  conversation.  It  is  a downright  in- 1 
suit  to  a man  of  pure  mind  and  pure  morals.  And  never  have  I known 
anything  but  disapprobation  expressed  and  felt,  on  occasions  when 
things  thus  improper  have  been  introduced,  even  by  those  whose  hearts' 
\yere  known  to  be  impure.  Hever  allow  anything  to  drop  from  your 
lips,  which  you  would  not  be  willing  to  have  your  sister  or  your  mother 
hear  you  say.  Your  recital  of  facts,  anecdotes,  and  all  that  you  say 
for  the  purpose  of  enlightening  or  amusing  others,  should  be  pure  in 
language  and  pure  in  thought. 

How  are  anecdotes  and  stories  to  be  used?  They  are  of  great  impor-  i 
tance  and  value,  when  properly  used,  and  worse  than  useless  when- 
employed  improperly.  You  have  known  men,  of  all  professions,  who 
are  forever  relating  anecdotes  and  telling  stories.  Their  fund  seems ; 
inexhaustible  when  you  first  become  acquainted  with  them ; but,  on 
further  acquaintance,  you  will  find  the  stock  really  limited,  and  that 
the-  same  things  are  repeated  and  laughed  at  many  times  every  year. 
One  is  noted  as  “an  old  story- teller;”  another  is  remarkable  for  keep- 
ing the  company  in  good  humor,  or  in  shouts  of  laughter,  by  the  hour 
together.  And  yet  these  individuals  are  not,  and  cannot  be,  as  a gen- 
eral thing,  very  highly  respected.  Ho  one  would  esteem  it  an  enviable 
point  to  gain,  if  he  might  gain  the  same  distinction.  And  yet  every 
one  is  in  danger  of  becoming  one  of  these  “hoary  buffoons,”  if  he  in- 
dulges in  stories  and  anecdotes.  At  the  same  time,  stories  and  anec- 


cn.  VI.] 


TWO  CAUTIONS. 


Ill 


dotes  are  facts  which  illustrate  important  principles,  and  cannot  be 
well  dispensed  with.  Eow  shall  you  avoid  Scylla,  and  not  fall  upon 
Charybdis?  I answer,  you  may  and  ought  to  use  stories  and  anecdotes. 
They  are  very  important ; and  you  cannot  interest,  and  instruct,  and 
impress  without  them.  You  may  make  abundant  use  of  them;  I had 
almost  said  you  cannot  make  too  much.  But  there  are  two  important 
cautions  to  be  given  here. 

1.  That  you  use  the  fact  just  as  it  occurred.  Do  not  add,  nor  take 
from  it  in  the  least,  for  the  sake  of  embellishing  and  making  it  more 
striking  and  to  the  point.  You  belie  history,  if  you  add  or  diminish 
aught.  Some  men  cannot  repeat  a fact  in  the  shape  of  anecdote,  with- 
out having  it  so  distorted  and  discolored,  that  you  would  hardly  know 
it  to  be  the  same  thing.  The  habit  is  bad ; for  you  will  soon  be  unable, 
if  it  be  allowed,  to  state  an  interesting  fact  as  it  was. 

2.  The  second  caution  is,  do  not  tell  stories,  or  repeat  anecdotes,  for 
their  sake  and  to  amuse  by  them.  Their  use  is,  to  illustrate  what  you 
are  talking  or  writing  about.  When  they  are  used  otherwise  than  to 
illustrate,  they  are  out  of  their  place. 

JN^ever  commence  a conversation,  or  pen  a paragraph,  for  the  sake 
of  the  anecdote  which  will  be  brought  out  by  way  of  illustration.  A 
guide-board  is  a very  convenient  thing  as  you  travel  a tedious  and 
difficult  road;  but,  though  every  road  ought  to  have  them  at  its 
branches  and  corners,  yet  what  would  you  say  of  the  man  who  should 
lay  out  and  build  a road  for  the  sake  of  its  guide-boards?  He  who  is 
in  the  habit  of  investigating  subjects  by  analogy,  will  be  very  likely  to 
illustrate  them  in  the  way  in  which  they  are  presented  to  his  own  mind. 
Let  your  comparisons,  figures,  and  illustrations,  all  be  natural.  Were 
I to  see  a man  building  a house,  and  all  at  once,  as  he  wanted  a stick 
of  timber,  easily  and  naturally  take  his  axe  and  go  out  into  the  woods 
and  cut  it  and  bring  it,  and  put  it  in  its  place,  my  opinion  of  the  man 
would  be  raised ; but  if  he  evidently  built  the  house  for  the  purpose  of 
showing  that  he  could  do  such  things,  he  would  fall,  and  that  greatly, 
in  the  estimation  of  all. 

In  these  remarks  I hope  I shall  not  be  understood  to  advise  that  you 
be  in  the  habit  of  tedious  minuteness  in  all  your  relations  of  facts  and 
anecdotes.  This  is  intolerable.  It  is  like  trying  to  eat  some  of  our 
small  fish — slow  in  process;  and  when  you  have  done,  you  remember 
the  hones  while  you  forget  the  meat.  A man  in  haste  would  not  thus 
dine,  if  he  could  well  avoid  it. 

Keep  yom^  conversation  clear  of  envy ; and  to  do  it,  the  heart  must 
be  kept  clear.  I shall  not  stoop  to  write  a tirade  against  this  crying 
sin.  But  I wiU  point  to  you  a noble  example.  Yirgil  and  Horace 


112 


ENVY  TO  BE  A VOIDED. 


[CH.  VI. 


were  contemporaries — both  poets — both  panting  after  distinction—  both 
patronized  by  the  same  hand — both  caressed  by  the  same  nation — and 
both  living  and  laboring  for  an  immortality  on  earth ; and  yet  they  ate 
at  the  same  table,  and,  in  all  their  race,  were  friends.  Envy  and 
jealousy  never  soured  their  dispositions,  never  marred  their  peace. 
Envy  is  one  of  the  besetting  sins  of  the  student.  lie  is  sensitive, 
nervous,  and  longs  for  the  approbation  of  men.  He  sees  others,  by 
some  apparently  fortuitous  circumstances,  prospered,  caressed  and  hon- 
ored, while  he  is  forgotten,  and  passed  by.  What  is  more  natural 
than  that  he  should  feel  envy,  and  should  show  it  in  words,  in  severe, 
perhaps  unjust  remarks  ? Guard  against  this  temptation.  Envy  is  a 
demon  which  invariably  dances  attendance  on  men  of  small  minds; 
and,  so  far  as  it  is  shown,  all  understand  it  to  be  so. 

Be  cheerful  in  all  your  conversation.  It  can  be  made  a habit,  and 
will  always  render  you  agreeable.  We  have  so  many  Aveaknesses,  so 
many  crosses,  and  so  much  that  is  down-hill  in  life,  that  we  love  to 
meet  a friend  that  is  cheerful.  The  veriest  cripple,  and  the  sourest  of 
men,  love  to  pause  and  forget  themselves,  Avhile  they  listen  to  the 
prattle  and  the  cheerful  shouts  of  the  group  of  children.  The  cultiva- 
tion of  cheerful  tones,  and  a cheerful  manner  of  conversation,  Avill  add 
to  your  own  comfort,  and  also  to  that  of  all  with  whom  you  associate. 
The  hares  of  the  sensitive  CoAvper  Avere  his  evening  companions;  and 
he  informs  us  that  their  cheerfulness  and  frolicsomeness  beguiled  his 
hours  of  sadness. 

The  folloAving  are  the  rules,  much  abridged,  Avhich  the  judicious 
Mason  gives  to  the  student,  m regard  to  conversation.  . 

1.  Choose  your  company  for  profit,  just  as  you  do  your  books. 
The  best  company  and  the  best  iDOoks  are  those  Avhich  are  the  most 
improving  and  entertaining.  If  you  can  neither  receive  nor  bestoAV 
benefit,  leaA^e  that  company  at  once. 

2.  Study  the  character  of  your  company.  If  they  are  your  superiors, 
ask  them  questions,  and  be  an  attentive  hearer ; if  your  inferiors,  do 
them  good. 

3.  When  the  conversation  droops,  revive  it  by  introducing  some 
topic  so  general  that  all  can  say  something  upon  it.  Perhaps  it  AAfill 
not  be  amiss  to  stock  your  mind,  beforehand,  Avith  suitable  topics. 

4.  When  anything  is  said  new,  valuable,  or  instructiA^e,  enter  it  in 
your  memorandum -book.  Keep  all  that  you  can  lay  your  hand  on 
that  is  Avorth  keeping;  but  reject  all  trash. 

5.  Kever  be  a cipher  in  company.  Try  to  please,  and  you  will  find 
something  to  say  that  will  be  acceptable.  It  is  ill  manners  to  be  silent. 
What  is  trite,  if  said  in  an  obliging  manner,  will  be  better  received 


a.  VI.] 


MASON'S  ELEVEN  RULES. 


113 


tian  entire  silence;  and  a common  remark  may  often  lead  to  some- 
ibing  valuable.  Break  a dead  silence,  at  any  rate,  and  all  will  feel 

iSuSy  anrclamor.  If  a point  is  handled  briskly,  wait 
dll  you  have  seen  its  different  sides,  and  have  become  master  of  it. 
:^hen  you  may  speak  to  advantage.  Never  repeat  a good  thing  in  the 

'™^Kememher  that  others  see  their  foibles  and  mistakes  in  a light 
ilferent  from  what  you  do:  therefore  be  careful  not  to  oppose  or 

nimadvert  too  freely  upon  them  in  company. 

, 8.  If  the  company  slander,  or  are  profane,  reprove  it  m words,  ir 
'hat  will  do;  if  not,  by  silence;  and  if  that  fails,  withdraw. 

' 9 Do  not  affect  to  shine  in  conversation,  as  if  that  were  your 
peculiar  excellency,  and  you  were  conscious  of  superior  ability. 

10.  Bear  with  much  that  seems  impertinent.  It  may  not  appear,  so 
o all,  and  you  may  learn  something  from  it. 

11.  Be  free  and  easy,  and  try  to  make  all  the  rest  feel  so.  In  this 
vay  much  valuable  thought  may  be  drawn  out. 

to  these  I would  add,  never  get  out  of  temper  in  company.  11  you 
ire  at  all  ill  treated,  or  affronted,  that  is  not  the  place  to  notice  it  It 
rou  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  get  into  dispute  with  a loud,  heated  an- 
tagonist, keep  cool— perfectly  so.  “It  is  cold  steel  that  cuts,  and 
70U  will  soon  have  the  best  end  of  the  argument.  1 he  sympathy  and 
^espect  of  the  circle  will  always  move  toward  him  who  is  cool  under 
aro vocation.  “If  a man  has  a quarrelsome  temper,  let  him  alone 
the  world  will  soon  find  him  employment.  He  will  soon  meet  with 
5ome  one  stronger  than  himself,  who  would  repay  him  better  than  you 
3an.  A man  may  fight  duels  all  his  life,  if  he  is  disposed  to  quarrel. 
What  is  usually  understood  by  dispute, 6.,  something  m which  the 
feelings  are  strongly  enlisted,  and  in  which  there  is  strife  for  victory , 
ouo-ht  never  to  be  admitted  into  company.  The  game  is  too  rough 
Ami  discussion,  when  it  approaches  that  point,  should  be  dropped  at 

^^Fcannot  close  this  chapter  without  reminding  my  reader,  that  the 
power  of  communicating  our  thoughts  and  feelings  by  conversation,  is 
one  of  the  greatest  blessings  bestowed  on  man.  It  is  a perpetol 
source  of  comfort,  and  may  be  an  instrument  of  great  usefulness.  I he 
tongue  is  an  instrument,  also,  of  vast  mischief.  It  is  our  chie 
engme  for  doing  good  or  mischief.  The  gift  brings  a vast  responsi- 
bilitv  upon  us.  The  emotions  of  the  soul,  when  expressed  m language, 
will”  always  affect  others,  more  or  less.  If  they  are  rightly  affected, 
good  is  done;  if  improperly,  evil  is  the  result.  You  will  never  pass  a 


114 


TUB  STUDENT'S  SUPPER. 


[CH.  V] 


rf  thrift  * ^ heavy  responsibility  rest  upon  you  for  the  us 

ot  thi.  gift.  Every  word  is  heard  by  him  who  p anted  the  earn  a ^ 
for  every  wor^  you  are  bound  over  to  give  an  answer  at  the  ^^t  ck 
of  ^oount.  The  student,  with  a cultivated  mind  with  a tod  c 
ready  knowledge,  with  manners  and  habits  that  inakThim  welcom 
wlierever  he  goes  with  an  influence  which  cultivation  aCys  ±“2 
the  student  can  do  much  for  the  good  of  man,  the  honor  of  hi  God 
and  for  his  own  future  iieace,  by  the  manner  in  which  he  uses  hi 
powers  of  conversation.  Ilis  words,  his  tones,  will  pom  deli<^hrint, 
the  soul  of  friendship;  they  will  form  the  character  ofVe  little“nrattle 
too  listens  to  him ; they  will  pave  his  way  to  high  and  gloriourscene 
of  usefulness  ;-^r  they  will  fall  heavy  on  the  ear  of  affection  and  wil 
roll  a deep  night  of  sorrow  back  upon  his  own  soul.  Eemember  tha 
every  word  you  utter  wings  its  way  to  the  throne  of  God  and  is  tc 

be  rtcalled^^ind ' tlV-  forey-er.  Once  uttered,  it  can  nevei 


VII. 


POLITENESS  AND  SDBOEDINATION. 

mo^?at'tef  institution  were  assembled  in  com- 

mons  at  tea,  at  the  commencement  of  a new  academical  year  A new 
class  were  thus,  for  the  first  time,  brought  to  eat  toSr  Theh 
advancement  m life  and  m education  was  such,  that  eacE  one  ouo-ht  to 
As  they  sat  down,  one  says  to  his  friend  at 
his  right.  We  shall  soon  see  who  is  who.  ” Presently  a large  brawny 
hand  came  reaching  along  up  the  table,  pushing  pait  two®  or  threT 
and,  seizing  the  brown  loaf,  m a moment  had  peeled  it  of  all  its  crust’ 
and  had  again  retired  with  its  booty  to  the  owner.  “Hold  there” 

TeLr-  “oT  Pf  *‘f<^««’„^"here  is  the  justice  of  such 

a seizure .-  O ! I love  the  crust  the  best.  ” “ Very  like  • and  nerfi/jm 

StThaT/nSunX®  the  cLver^aSS^d 


NATIONAL  CliARAOlBRISTlOS. 


115 


m.  vn.J 

'that  we  almost  instinctively  and  almost  invariably  judge  of  men  by 
itto  appearance-thefr  address..  They  will  notice,  too  y they 

enter  a stage  for  a journey,  the  inquiring  glance  goes  eagerly  round 
the  circle,  and  at  once,  unhesitatingly,  and  almost  mtmtwely;  e^h 
one  has  made  up  his  mind  who  are  and  who  are  not  polite  men  m the 
company.  In  any  company,  a polite  man  will  be  selected  as  the  o e 
3m  all  feel  tU  they  Lyet  kind  of  friend  and  Pfector-one  who 
will  neither  disregard  their  rights  nor  suffer  others  to  do  so.  When 
among  strangers,  at  the  public  table,  the  politest  man  is  selected  to 
carve,  and  distribute  to  the  company,  because  all  have  confidence  m 
the  uprightness  and  goodness  of  Ins  heart.  And  such  a man  ah  ays 
carries,  in  his  very  manners,  Avhat  is  better  than  a letter  of  commen  - 
tiAn!  The  letter  may  deceive,  or  it  may  be  seen  but  by  few,  while 
his  manners  will  be  seen  by  all.  As  politeness  will  not  only  add  to 
your  personal  comfort,  and  the  comfort  of  among  whom  you  move 
tat  will  also  greatly  add  to  your  useMness,  I feel  that  no  apolo  y is 
necessary  for  introducing  the  subject  here.  Indeed,  I should  feel 
the  book  was  very  deficient  without  it. 

E'ations  and  communities  differ  as  widely  m respect  to  pohteness, 
as,  perhaps,  any  one  thing.  The  French  are  polite  to  a proverb : but 
we,  as  a peUe,  seem  to  be  characterized  as  being  a very  impohte  na- 
tion I need  not  stop  to  vindicate  our  national  character,  even  if  it 
can  be  vindicated.  But  this  is  certain,  that  we  can  lay  no  claim  to  be 
considered  in  danger  of  being  too  polite.  I have  seen  a gentleman  in 
a large  circle,  in  attempting  to  sit  down,  supposing  a chair  stood  be- 
hind him,  fall  flat  on  his  back.  The  company  all  laughed  or  tittered 
at  his  awkward  situation,  excepting  a French  gentlemp  present,  who 
ran  to  him,  helped  him  up,  hoped  it  had  not  hurt  him,  gave  up  his 
own  chair,  and  at  once  entered  into  a lively  conversation,  to  make  him 
foro-et  the  accident.  The  company  all  felt  rebuked  by  the  pohteness  of 
the°Frenohman:  but  I doubt  whether,  had  the  same  accident  recurred 
the  next  evening,  they  would  not  have  repeated  tne  same  conduct. 
Politeness  was  a habit  with  him,  but  with  the  rest  of  us  it  was  not  a 
habit.  In  the  same  walk  in  a city,  I have  inquired  at  an  American  store 
for  a place  wliioh  I wished  to  find,  and  received  an  answer  that  was 
hardly  civil,  and  no  direction  that  was  of  any  use.  On  inquiring  at  a 
Frenta  store,  a few  rods  distant,  the  polite  owner  came  out,  showed 
me  the  street,  and  even  went  with  me  till  the  house  was  m sig^- 
Which  of  these  was  the  polite  man?  and  at  which  shop  would  i be 
likely  to  stop  and  make  purchases  in  future  ? Yet  it  was  not  this  motive 
that  induced  the  man  to  be  polite.  It  was  his  habit. 

Perhaps  no  class  of  men  are  in  greater  danger  of  neglecting  to  culti- 


116 


DANGER  TO  RELIGIOUS  STUDENTS. 


[cil.  VI 


SH:|=iSE:ssS3M 

a-reitlv  to  a student,  his  manners  are  even  tolerable,  he  is 

family  government  oldiashionLrwIy  mafkeV 

■^ere  originally  from  humble 

.n^tj£rbuf.r£pa.%^^^^ 

r.s  h'e  ssi!hr,""‘  ■'■"'■ “£■ 

en  in  the  notion,  that  no  one  can  cultivate  politeness  unleq<5  Tip 
clonms  fohtfe!“^''*^  till  they  are 

Religious  young  men  are  even  still  more  exposed  to  danger  Thev 

are  looked  upon  as  the  promise  and  the  hope^  of  the  chuX  and  are 

them  'Tbpv  ava  ' F a partiality  of  parents  towards 

vpori  ' + t/hey  are  m great  danger,  consequently,  of  beino-  much  more 
attentions  than  to  bestow  theVto  ^^“eive  or  Ten 

acter  should  Tt^’ou'*^^  *1  upon  those  whose  years  and  char- 

cter  should  at  once  make  them  forget  themselves.  There  is  an  im- 


nSITim  LADIES. 


m.  vn.j 


hi 


Pertinence,  and  sort  of  smirking  manner,  about  some  young  men, 
jvhich  is  endured  only  because  the  kind  hope  is  indulged,  that  expern 
mce  will  correct  the  evil,  and  some  other  hand  will  deal  the  rough 
)lows  necessary  to  bring  them  to  their  proper  places;  just  as  the  tender 
nother  spares  her  child,  in  hopes  that  he  will  do  better  as  he  grows 
)lder;  by  which  she  means,  that  she  hopes  others  will  bestow  those 
corrections  which  he  so  richly  deserves,  but  which  she  cannot  inflict. 

[ most  sincerely  wish  that  young  men  of  this  class,  who  are  thus  ex- 
icting  the  attentions  which  old  soldiers  only  deserve,  could  hear  even 
3ut  a part  of  the  severe  remarks  which  are  made  upon  them  the 
noment  they  have  left  the  company.  The  evil  of  which  I am  speak- 
ng,  and  speaking  too  with  the  kindest  of  feelings,  would  be  quickly 

remedied.  . ^ -n  t.i 

It  is  frequently  supposed,  that  the  vacations  of  students  will  enable 
them  to  throw  off  the  stiffness  of  their  habits,  and  to  become  polite. 
This  ought  to  be  their  effect.  But  if  you  wnll  watch  the  progress  of  a 
student’s  life,  you  will  find  that  there  is  danger  of  having  a contrary 
habit  formed  by  vacations.  We  will  suppose  you  have  studied  closely 
and  faithfully  through  the  term,  have  passed  the  customary  examina- 
tion at  its  close,  and  are  now  prepared  to  go  home.  You  are  weary, 
worn  down,  and  almost  sick.  You  reach  home  with  a countenance 
pale,  and  eyes  sunken.  Your  parents  find  that,  for  the  last  week  or 
two,  you  have  been  drooping.  Your  brothers  and  sisters  dance  around 
you  in  pure  joy.  You  are  now  to  be  a visitor  for  a short  time,  are  to 
be  nursed  and  revived,  and  sent  back  in  good  health,  and  in  fine  spirits. 
Every  one  in  the  family  is  to  do  all  for  you  in  his  power,  to  make  your 
visit  pleasant  and  cheering.  The  walks,  the  rides,  the  visits,  every- 
thing, even  to  the  diet,  is  regulated  with  a regard  to  your  happiness. 
What  is  the  result?  You  are  happy,  you  are  gratified;  and  vacation  is 
delightfal;  but  I ask  you,  are  you  not  in  danger,  by  these  delightful 
attentions,  of  receiving  all  this  as  your  due,  and  of  expecting  it  all, 
without  feeling  a corresponding  obligation  to  return  kindness,  and  to 
make  others  as  happy?  Are  you  not  in  danger  of  feeling  that  these  kind 
attentions  are  something  which  are  the  right  of  the  student,  and,  con- 
sequently, of  expecting  them  from  all  men,  and  of  feeling  disappointed 
if  you  do  not  receive  them?  Beware  of  cherishing  the  feeling,  that 
i you  are  not  bound  to  bestow  attentions  and  kindnesses,  as  well  as  to 
i receive  them. 

, Some  depend  on  becoming  polite  men,  and  gentlemen,  from  the 
i fact,  that  during  vacations  they  visit  much,  and  especially,  that  they 
i then  associate  much  with  the  ladies.  With  all  due  respect  to  their 
j influence,  I must  be  allowed  to  say,  that  every  association  of  the 


1 


118 


AMERICAN  POLlTENESB. 


[oh.  « 


IT-f  to  do  much  towar 

forming  habits  of  politeness.  It  is  thought  that  anything  whic 
intoxicates  for  a season  is  pernicious  to  regular  habits  of  life  If  th 
remark  is  ever  true,  it  probably  is  in  this  case. 

The  radical  notions  of  the  present  day,  so  prevalent  in  regard  t 
almost  every  subject  and  department  of  life,  with  how  much  ^oo 
soever  they  may  be  associated,  have  certainly  a dead  influence  upo 
habits  ot  politeness.  He  who  believes  mind  and  matter  to  be  of  equa 
worth,  and  that  the  great  tiling  necessary  to  recover  a planet  whic] 
has  wandered  from  its  orbit,  is  to  put  it  in  a whirl,  is  not  very  likeb 
to  be  the  man  who  will  acknowledge  real  worth,  and  pay  defereno 
to  genuine  merit— much  less  to  be  an  angel  in  kindness  toward  equal 
and  mferiom.  But  few  men  are  radical  in  theory;  but  lest  they  slmuk 
be  thought  too  far  removed  from  it,  too  many  sacrifice  their  politenes, 
as  a peace-otfermg  to  this  divinity.  ^ 

Perhaps  students  in  Hew  England  are  in  special  need  of  caution  ii 
regard  to  their  manners.  The  very  air  we  breathe  is  republican;  am 
nothing  IS  current  among  us  but  pure  republicanism.  l am  proud  t( 
have  It  so;  and  may  there  never  be  a breeze,  which  shall  pass  over  the 
blue  hills  and  the  sweet  valleys  of  New  England,  which  shall  not  giv( 
breath  to  men  of  these  principles!  But  at  the  same  time,  while® w« 
cultivate  iron  smews,  high  enterprise,  and  freedom  of  thought  and 
teehng,  there  is  no  need  of  downright  roughness  of  manners,  or  savagf 
tones  of  speech.  We  justly  admire  the  easy,  graceful  politeness  o< 
our  southern  brethren.  They  are  always  welcomed  among  us,  and 
make  all  happy  among  whom  they  move.  We  mav  and  ought  to  have 
more  ot  their  pleasing  manners,  without  sacrificing  anything  of  the 
New  England  character,  which  is  truly  valuable.  From  their  infanev 
they  exceed  us,  altogether,  m reverence  for  their  parents,  deference  tc 
superiors,  and  urbanity  toward  their  associates. 

_ Professional  men  are  too  frequently  destitute  of  real  politeness,  and 
m very  many  cases  wofully  so.  I shall  try  to  account  for  this  shortly. 
But  lest  the  position  should  be  doubted,  look  at  a few  facts.  The  go^ 
people  ot  New  York  city  are  in  the  habit  of  opening  their  houses  eWy 
spring,  to  receive  clergymen  who  may  wish  to  attend  the  anniversarii^ 
of  the  religious  societies.  A few  years  since,  long  and  imposing  cau- 
tiqns  were  published  m their  papers,  guarding  the  clergymen  who 
might  attend  against  spitting  on  carpets,  and  other  acts  of  impoliteness 
ot  a similar  nature.  Without  asking  whether  such  a public  reproof 
was  altogether  delicate  or  not,  it  shows  the  light  in  which  the  pro- 
tessiqn  is  viewed  by  a city  population.  The  offices  of  lawyers  and  of 
physicians  can  seldom  boast  of  anything  that  looks  toward  refinement 


!ch.  VII.]  PLEASURES  DERIVED  FROM  REFINEMENT.  119 

i' 

i unless  it  be  the  occupant.  And  even  at  the  capital  at  Washington,  it 
jis  said  that,  when  Congress  adjourns,  they  leave  the  halls  in  a situation 
(which  indicates  that  almost  anything  has  been  there,  rather  than  the 
I most  refined  gentlemen  of  whom  our  land  can  boast.  The  manners  of 
! professional  men,  too,  are  fre(]uently  blunt,  slovenly,  and  bocwish. 

^ The  remark  is  not  to  be  con;6^ned  to  any  one  profession.  And  v\  hy  is 
lit  so?  Why  are  not  professional  men  among  the  most  refined  and 
I polite  in  their  manners?  I will  tell  you.  Their  profession  is  their 
character.  Upon  this  they  re)^y,  and  upon  this  wholly.  It  is  not  that 
they  despise  dress  and  politeness,  but  because  they  do  not  give  them 
their  real  value.  An  advocate  can  manage  a cause,  and  make  a plea,  so 
that  the  whole  court  will  bow  to  his  learning  and  powers.  He  relies 
upon  this  character,  and  neglects  manners,  which,  it  may  be,  are  all 
that  another  man  has  for  his  support.  That  physician,  whom  you  see 
walkino*  the  streets,  would  not  be  tolerated  in  refined  society,  with  ins 
present  manners,  were  it  not  that  he  stands  so  high  in  his  profession. 
And  that  clergyman,  so  eccentric,  and  so  uncouth,  even  at  table,  Avould 
be  intolerable,  were  it  not  that  in  the  pulpit,  he  can  show  a powerful, 
cultivated  intellect,  and  a warm  heart.  Is  not  this  just  as  well  as  if 
professional  men  were  more  particular,  and  as  if  every  one  was  a model 
of  politeness?  I reply,  no.  Took  a moment  at  the  philosophy  of  the 
thing.  Every  one  loves  to  gaze  upon  a beautiful  picture  or  a beautiful 
statue  You  can  gaze  for  the  hundredth  time,  and  at  each  look  receive 
an  emotion  of  pleasure.  This  is  true  of  every  man,  whoever  he  may 
be.  We  aU  love  to  look  at  what  is  refined  and  beautiful;  and  when 
the  thoughts  recur  to  it,  we  dwell  longer  and  more  intently  upon  what 
is  graceful  and  beautiful.  The  consequence  is,  that  a man,  with  the 
same  talents  and  attainments,  who  is  a refined  and  a polite  man,  is 
looked  at  and  remembered  with  vastly  niore  pleasure  than  his  equal, 
who  is  awkward,  uncouth,  and  impolite  in  his  manners.  The  French 
lady  who  declared  that  she  could  not  read  her  ])rayers  with  any 
comfort,  except  from  a beautifully  printed  and  elegantly-bound  prayer- 
book,  based  her  remark  not  upon  fancy,  but  upon  true  philosophy.  If, 
then,  the  physician  would  be  remembered  with  interest,  and  have  his 
imao’e  recalled  with  pleasure  by  his  feverish,  suffering  patient,  let  him 
be  a polite,  finished  gentleman  in  all  his  appearance  and  demeanor. 
If  the  lawyer  would  have  his  skiU  and  his  eloquence  remembered,  let 
them  be  associated  with  manners  refined  and  inviting,  and  they  will  be 
the  more  often  recalled,  as  they  will  be  associated  so  intimately  with 
his  person  If  the  clergyman  would  have  his  instructions  take  deep 
hold  on  the  affections  of  his  people,  and  his  visits  at  their  houses  hailed 


130 


WANT  OF  POLITENESS  NO  MARK  OF  GENIUS. 


I 


[CH.  VIL 


with  warm  greetings,  let  him  cultivate  manners  that  bring  no  associa- 
tions connected  with  his  person  which  are  not  decidedly  pfeasurable. 

Some  trample  on  all  the  forms  of  politeness  for  the  purpose  of  chal- 
engmg  and  receiving  attentions,  especially  in  public  places.  But  thev 
greatly  mistake  human  nature.  Who  does  not  know  that  he  received 
and  welcomes,  and  waits  upon  a polite  man,  at  his  own  house  with 
much  more  cheerfulness  and  alacrity  than  he  does  one  who  has  an 

attentions  of  others,  by  all  means  be  a man  of  politeness  yourself. 

Some  feel  that  politeness  is  inconsistent  with  independent  feelino- 
who  cannot  but  half  respect  liinself,  and  cm 
place  but  half  a confidence  in  himself,  is  the  man  to  be*  iealous  of 
others,  and  to  demand  of  them  by  impudence  what  he  fears  they  will 
not  yield  him  without.  ‘‘An  envious  and  unsocial  mind,  too  proud  to; 
give  pleasure,  and  too  sullen  to  receive  it,  always  endeavors  to  hide  its 
malignity  from  the  world  and  from  itself  under  the  plainnesss  of  simiile 
honesty,  or  the  dignity  of  haughty  independence.  ” You  may  regard 
the  conTOnience  of  others,  and  do  all  that  politeness  requires,  and  wur 
own  independence  will  be  actually  strengthened  by  it. 

Others  feel  that  it  is  the  mark  of  genius,  or  of  a great  mind,  to  be 
slovenly  in  appearance  and  uncouth  in  manners.  If  this  be  a sure 
index,  the  world  is  certainly  in  no  danger  of  suffering  for  the  want  of' 
genius  and  talents.  A man  may  be  great  and  influential  in  spite  of 
ills  manners ; and  so  can  the  elephant  do  wonders  with  his  trunk.  The 
most  I’efined  lady  cannot  thread  her  needle  quicker  than  he  can ; but 
would  she  be  improved  by  exchanging  her  hands  for  his  trunk*  If 
genius  requires  such  manners,  the  Graces  should  have  been  hawkers  of 
nsh  in  the  streets,  and  Genius  himself  a canal-digger. 

, 1 or  talents,  can  ever  excuse  a man  for  neglectino* 

the  civilities  due  from  man  to  man.  When  Clement  XIY.  ascended 
le  papal  chair,  the  ambassadors  of  the  several  states  represented  at 
ins  court,  waited  on  his  holiness  with  their  congratulations.  As  they 
were  introduced,  and  severally  bowed,  he  also  bowed,  to  return  the  ^ 
complmient.  On  this  the  master  of  ceremonies  told  his  holiness  that 
he  should  not  have  returned  their  salute.  “O,  I beg  your  pardon,” 

11  • ® enough  to  forget  good  manners.”  " 

Ihe  following  hints  are  suggested  as  worthy  of  your  considera-  ' 

1.  T/iat  good-humor  is  essential  to  politeness. 

Perhaps  you  think  I should  have  used  the  term  good-nature.  But  I 
that  seems  to  be  usually  confined  to  a negative  character.  By  o-ood-  « 
humor  I mean  “the  habit  of  being  easily  pleased.”  The  poet  hasp 


CH.  Vii.l  good  IinMOR  NEGE88ARf.  I2l 

ibeautifully  said,  that  the  art  of  love  ought,  on  Saturday,  to  sup  at  the 
house  of  the  art  of  pleasing!  that  is,  if  I rightly  understand  him,  the 
art  of  pleasing  comes  next  to  that  of  loving. 

“Au  nom  du  Pinde  et  de  Cy there 
Gentil  Bernard  est  averti 
Que  I’art  d’ aimer  doit  samedi  ^ 

Venir  souper  chez  Tart  de  plaire.’* 

Addison  has  beautifully  illustrated  this  trait  of  character  in  his  some- 
what whimsical  description  of  his  walk  with  his  friend  Will  Honey- 
comb. It  seems  that  Will  had  picked  up  a pebble,  which,  on  account 
of  its  shape,  he  determined  to  present  a friend  of  his  who  was  gather- 
ino-  such  valuable  articles.  In  the  mean  time  he  discovered,  by  the 
looks  of  his  friend,  that  he  wished  to  know  the  time  of  day.  Pulling 
out  his  watch,  he  “told  me  we  had  seven  minutes,  good.  We  took  a 
turn  or  two  more.  When,  to  my  great  surprise,  I saw  him  squir 
away  his  watch  a considerable  distance  into  the  Thames,  and,  with 
great  sedateness  in  his  looks,  put  up  the  pebble  he  had  before  found, 
in  his  fob.  As  I have  naturally  an  aversion  to  much  speaking,  and  do 
not  love  to  be  the  messenger  of  ill  news,  especially  when  it  comes  too 
late  to  be  useful,  I left  him  to  be  convinced  of  his  mistake  in  due  time, 
and  continued  my  walk.” 

I trust  I have  said  sufficient,  under  the  head  of  conversation,  to  pre- 
vent my  being  misunderstood,  and  to  prevent  your  mistaking  good- 
humor  for  anything  like  buffoonery.  It  must  arise  from  kind  feelings 
within;  and  a smile  must  be  ready  to  aid  those  feelings  in  expressing 
I themselves.  It  may  be  an  encouragement  to  know  that  every  exercise 
of  these  kind  feelings  will  surely  increase  them;  so  that  what  is  begun 
'as  a duty,  will  soon  become  a pleasure.  We  all  know  that  outward 
I expressions  of  kindness  have  no  value  any  farther  than  as  they  are  an 
I index  of  the  feelings  within ; but  it  is  a kind  provision  of  Providence 
I that  even  the  outward  expression  of  kindness  has  a tendency  to  culti- 
i vate  the  feelings  of  good-will.  ...  • . 

2.  That  the  cultwation  of  the  conscience  will  increase  your  poUteness. 

The  very  spirit  of  the  gospel  is,  that  you  love  your  neighbor  as  your- 
self; and  all  know  that  this  is  true  politeness;  so  that,  when  you  see 
an  impolite  man  make  great  pretensions  to  religion,  you  give  him 
credit  for  having  probably  deceived  himself.  You  may  now  be  able  to 
think  of  a man  who  is  notorious  for  being  wicked.  Look  at  him,  and 
see  if  he  be  not  far  from  being  a man  of  politeness.  Look  again,  and 
see  if  his  wickedness  did  not  first  commence  at  the  point  of  being 
impolite  toward  men;  for  impudence  toward  men  will  almost  invaria- 


122 


CIHEERFULNE8S  ESSENTIAL 


[cfi.  vfi 


bly  lead  to  disrespect  of  God;  so  that  he  who  begins  by  throwing  asid. 
kind  and  proper  feelings  toward  his  fellows,  will  most  assuredly  eni 
in  despising  the  commands  of  his  Maker.  The  best  way  then  ti 
become  a man  of  politeness,  is  to  begin  with  the  heart,  to  act  on’  thi 
principle  of  making  every  one  as  happy  as  in  your  power,  becaus. 
you  would  have  all  others  do  so  to  you.  No  one  can  act  on  this  prin 
cipie  for  any  length  of  time  without  possessing  all  the  essentials  o 
politeness.  You  should,  therefore,  never  try  to  see  how  much  of  kind 
ness  you  can  express,  but  how  much  you  can  feel.  Every  feeling  o: 
deference  toward  your  Maker;  every  feeling  of  contrition  before  him 
every  season  of  self-abMement  for  your  sins,  will  bring  you  nearer  anc 
nearer  that  state  in  which  you  will  hardly  fail  of  being  a man  of  polite 
ness.  If  we  were  made  for  ourselves  alone,  and  had  no  other  aim  but 
to  demand  new  indulgences  from  others,  we  might  say  nothing  aboui 
the  heart.  But  if  you  are  to  love  your  neighbor  as  yourself,  and  i1 
there  be  a score,  a hundred,  or  a thousand,  who  are  so  situated  tha1 
they  are  your  neighbors,  then,  as  you  divide  off  the  happiness  whicl 
you  distribute,  you  will  seek  but  your  share;  of  course,  your  great 
object  will  be  to  distribute  to  others.  ^ 

3.  T/ia^  cheerfulness  is  essential  to  a polite  man. 

A gloomy  melancholy  man  can  never  think  of  much  except  himself 

He  cannot  forget  so  important  a personage  to  attend  to  you.  He 
may  have  cause  for  all  his  bad  feelings,  sufficient  to  excuse  him-  but 
you  cannot  count  any  of  them  as  being  very  kindly  toward  others’  A 
sick  man,  as  he  lies  on  his  bed,  will  hear  the  voice  of  one  man  as  he 
enters  the  house,  and  dread  to  see  him.  Why  ? Because  he  knows  that 
he  has  so  long  brooded  over  himself,  that  he  has  not  a single  kind 
cheerful  expression  for  any  one  else.  Another  man  enters,  and  the 
very  sound  of  his  voice  cheers  him,  and  the  smile  and  the  visit  are  a 
reviving  cordial.  He  is  a man  of  cheerful  feelings  and  habits;  and 
having  these,  he  tries  to  communicate  them  to  others  When  yon 
cultivate  cheerfulness,  then  you  cultivate,  at  the  same  time,  the  habit 
ot  politeness.  There  is  a keenness,  a razor-like  irony,  about  some  men, 
which  assumes  the  air  of  cheerfulness,  but  which,  in  reality  is  only  a 
genteel  way  of  snarling.  Much  that  is  impolite,  and  really  bitter, 
escapes  m this  way. 

For  the  purpose  of  appearing  cheerful,  you  must  really  feel  so;  and 
to  feel  cheerful,  you  must  be  in  good  health,  m one  can  feel  cheer- 
tul  with  a severe  tooth-ache  upon  him,  or  when  turning  and  tossing 
under  a burning  fever.  Your  health  must  be  good,  and  kept  good  by 
a frugal  diet,  and  a regular  course  of  bodily  exercise.  It  is  impossible 
for  the  mind  to  be  cheerful  and  the  spirits  buoyant  without  this.  Ho 


SUBOBDINA  TION. 


123 


t.  VII.] 


lan  ought  to  undertake  to  pass  himself  off  in  company,  or  expect  to 
snder  limself  even  tolerably  agreeable,  for  a single 
las  prepared  himself  by  some  suitable  exercise.  The  f 
laoyancy  of  a hunting  party  is  proverbial:  it  is  owm^  to  the  fact  that 
iiey  &rl  all  taking  an  agreeable  exercise,  without  having  an  object 
efore  them  of  importance  enough  to  do  anything  more  than  baiely 
Lite  them.  “There  is  no  real  life  but  cheerful  life;  therefore  vale- 
idiuarians  should  be  sworn,  before  they  enter  into  company,  not  to 
ly  a word  of  themselves  until  the  meeting  breaks  up  ® 

our  body  to  droop  for  the  want  of  exercise,  so  as  to  sink  below  the 
ower  of  wishing  to  please  and  to  be  pleased. 

The  cultivation  of  friendship  will  add  to  your  politeness;  for  so  fa 
•om  rendering  the  heart  selfish  by  giving  warm  affections  to  a tew 
boice  friends,  it  will  become  more  generous  toward  others  He  that 
as  no  one  to  love,  or  to  confide  m,  has  little  to  hope.  He  wants  the 
idical  principle  of  happiness;”  and  he  who  wants  this  will  m vain 
trive  to  be  a happy  man,  or  to  confer  happiness  upon  others 

I shall  do  geat  injustic  to  my  readers,  unless  I speak  on  the  subject 
f surEDixAnoN  with  great  plainness.  What  need  be  said  will  not 
ccupy  a long  space,  especially  as  I shall  pretend  to  offer  no  new  theory 

"^The  mind  loves  to  be  free;  and  so  strongly  does  it  disdain  confiM- 
aent,  and  a relinquishment  of  its  own  wishes,  that  it  is  not  unire- 
luentlv  unwilling  to  see  the  necessity  for  its  doing  so. 

‘ ‘ Order  is  Heaven’s  first  law.  ’ ’ From  the  earliest  dawn  of  reason  to 
he  hour  of  death,  when  we  reluctantly  take  the  last  ^jHer  mediciM, 
ve  have  to  submit  our  wills,  more  or  less,  to  the  will  of  others.  We 
annot  in  childhood  see  that  the  motive  which  induces  our  parents  to 
av  us  under  restraints,  is  a regard  to  our  future  happiness.  H seems 
o us  to  be  caprice,  or,  at  least,  arbitrary  dictation.  But  we  learn  to 
aibmit  our  wills  to  theirs;  and  here  is  the  tounc  ationof  gOTernment 
ind  here  coinmences  a system  of  bonds  and  obligations  which  a nde 
m us  through  life.  As  we  advance  in  life,  we  see  that  the  reason  of 
amily-government  is  not  a love  of  authority,  or  of  an  infliction  ot 
lunishment;  but  it  arises  from  compassion  to  our  ignorance,  and  a 
lesire  to  form  our  characters  for  the  world  in  which  we  are  to  live  and 


As  we  leave  the  paternal  roof,  the  laws  of  the  state  reach  us,  and 
hrow  their  obligations  around  us.  If  we  violate  them,  the  laws,  to 
■vhich  all  have  agreed  to  abide,  take  hold  of  us.  The  judge  is  only 
he  mouth  of  the  law,  and  the  magistrate  who  punishes  is  only  the 
rand.  But  it  is  the  law,  the  naked  law,  which  no  one  or  two  can 


124 


SUBORDINATION  TO  PUBLIC  LAWS. 


[CH.  vr 


alter,  which  reaches  the  highest  and  the  lowest  of  the  community  wit] 
entire  impartiality,  that  compels  us  to  bow  our  wills  to  its  mandates 
Without  this,  no  community  could  be  safe  or  prosperous.  Life,  char 
acter,  and  property,  would  alike  be  a prey  to  the  wicked,  without  tin 
power  and  majesty  of  law. 

If  you  step  aside  from  the  laws  of  the  land,  and  seek  for  a circle  o 
most  yalued  friends,  where  tlie  heart  may  reyel  in  its  freedom,  yoi 
AYill  hnd  that  eyen  here  there  are  the  nicest  of  laws,  which  you  mus' 
obey,  (w  you  are  expelled  from  that  circle,  and  your  friends  renoun c< 
}mu.  lese  l^ws  are  not  the  enactments  of  legislatures  or  senates,  hui 
they  are  as  well  defined  and  settled  as  if  they  were,  and  their  infractior 
will  as  surely  and  as  speedily  be  yisited  with  punishment  as  if  the 
magistrate  stood  with  his  sword  to  reyenge  their  yiolation.  The  most 
dehcate  and  nice  laws  must  be  obeyed,  if  you  would  haye  friends 
Ihe  cords  are  silk,  and  the  first  thread  that  is  broken  will  brino-  retri 
bution  upon  you.  ^ 

Eyen  the  loose  acquaintance  of  the  street  in  which  you  daily  walk 
throws  Its  laws  oyer  you,  and  you  must  obey  them;  be  civil  in  yom 
appearance  and  manners;  return  kind  salutations  and  kind  looks-  oi 
you  lose  character  and  friends  also.  It  would  be  easy  for  you  to  ruin 
your  influence,  and  almost  your  character,  by  a yiolation  of  these  un- 
written rules.  I once  saw  a student  standing  under  a tree  at  the 
corner  of  the  street,  sketching  a building  with  his  pencil.  Another 
student  came  sauntering  along  with  his  companion,  arm  in  arm  As 
they  passed  the  corner,  one  says  to  the  other,  “Well,  well,  somethincr 
IS  now  to  be  done!”  in  a tone  which  can  be  conceded,  but  not  ex"^ 
pressed  on  paper.  The  poor  limner  blushed,  crammed  his  paper  into 
his  pocket,  and  walked  away;  but  the  sting  of  that  rudeness  will  neyer 
entirely  leaye  his  heart.  The  form,  the  gait,  the  tones  of  that  rude 
young  man,  will  eyer  remain  yiyidly  before  him.  W^as  there  any  need' 
of  such  rudeness?  Were  not  the  laws  of  good  breeding  yiolated? 

You  cannot  expect,  then,  to  go  to  an  acadeniT,  a college,  or  to  any; 
other  institution,  at  which  scores  and  hundreds  of  vouth  are  educated 
without  finding  laws— laws  that  are  definite,  tangible,  and  which  are 
made  to  be  obeyed,  and  which  must  be  obeyed,  or  the  character  of  the 
institution  is  gone. 

One  of  the  most  useful  books  that  could  be  written,  would  be  a iiar- 
ticular  and  accurate  History  of  College  Rebellions and  I cannot  but 
hope  that  some  one— and  the  individual  could  easily  be  selected— who 
IS  well  qualified,  will  undertake  it.  The  only  danger  would  be,  that 
the  work  would  be  too  voluminous.  As  you  open  the  work,  the  chap- 
ters would  read  soinething  like  the  following;— A brief  History  of  the 


;ii.  VII.] 


BOOKS  ON  SUBORDINATION. 


125 


Great  Stomach  Rehellion;  wherein  is  set  forth  how  a whole  class  re- 
used to  eat — how  they  assembled  and  defied  the  faculty — their  elo- 
quent speeches  reported — how  .half  the  class,  including  every  rebel, 
vere  expelled  from  college,  and  went  home  in  disgrace — how  many  of 
hem  became  dissipated,  and  all  of  them  disappointed  the  hopes  of  their 
parents  and  their  own,  and  never  accomplished  anything  which  endears 
heir  memory  to  their  survivors,”  <fec.  “A  concise  History  of  the 
Green-pea  Rebellion^  which  arose  because  that  Avhen  the  steward  ob- 
tained all  the  peas  which  he  could,  he  did  not  obtain  more;  and  which 
'esulted  in  the  final  expulsion  of  only  sixteen  from  the  college.”  “An 
luthentic  History  of  the  Window -hr caking  Rehellion;  wherein  is  set 
iorth  the  severity  of  the  faculty,  inasmuch  as  they  would  not  commute 
he  punishment  of  one  who  broke  seven  windows  in  one  night,  though 
he  class  petitioned  it ; but,  on  the  contrary,  on  receiving  the  vote  of 
me-third  of  the  class,  that  they  would  not  recite  till  the  said  class- 
nate  was  restored,  proceeded  to  discipline  the  third.”  “The  melan- 
holy  History  of  the  Gunpowder  Rehellion;  showing  the  arbitrary 
proceedings  of  the  faculty  in  punishing  ten  of  the  most  promising 
y^oung  men  that  ever  lived,  for  the  trifling,  inconsiderate  amusement  of 
blowing  up  five  of  the  out-buildings  with  ten  pounds  of  powder;  with 
in  appendix,  containing  the  votes  and  speeches  of  the  students,  to- 
gether with  their  thrilling  and  soul-harrowing  appeal  to  the  public.” 

These  are  but  the  mere  specimens  of  the  titles  of  the  chapters.  The 
book  should  be  faithfully  written ; and  if  it  could  be  embelished  with 
i portrait  or  two  of  the  greatest  sufferers,  in  each  chapter,  it  would  be 
i most  valuable  vade  mecum  for  the  student. 

Now,  before  you  ever  engage  in  a rebellion,  there  are  four  points  of 
consideration  at  which  I beg  you  carefully  to  look : — 

1.  That,  at  such  times,  the  faculty  are  always  acting  on  right  prin- 
ciples, and  the  students  always  on  wrong. 

In  every  contest  of  the  kind,  you  will  remember  that  you  are  to  act 
iagainst,  and  measure  strength  with  men,  who  have  the  coolness  of  age 
and  the  wisdom  of  experience.  In  your  vacations,  or  at  any  other 
time,  you  would  be  highly  offended  at  the  suggestion  that  your  in- 
structors are  not  men  of  candor,  of  judgment,  and  of  kind  feelings. 
But  you  come  back,  and,  at  some  unexpected  turn  of  affairs,  all  on  a 
sudden,  these  men  are  so  changed,  that  they  are  neither  wise  nor 
prudent,  neither  just  nor  humane.  How  came  they  to  be  altered  so 
greatly,  and  so  suddenly?  Is  it  so  that  i\\ej  ham  altered?  or  do  you 
now  look  at  them  through  the  medium  of  excited  passion?  You  Avill 
remember  that  their  age  will  not  be  likely  to  permit  your  teachers  to 
\)e  thrown  into  acts  of  indiscretion  by  passion : their  character,  their 


126 


STUDENTS’  CONTESTS. 


[CH.  vn 


reputation,  their  interests,  their  standing  before  the  commanitv  al 

vtn  i fairly,^and  honorary,  and  Sdly 

Even  it  tliey  neie  all  bad  men,  and  had  scarcely  a particle  of  mora 
eehng  m exercise,  every  selfish  motive  of  the  human  heart  forbid' 
their  abusing  any  power  which  they  may  have  over  you.  In  a countri 
like  ours,  where  the  very  breath  of  our  nostrils  is  the  good  oiiinion  o 
the  public,  and  where  schools  and  colleges  are  so  numerous,  that  eaci 
has  to  be  very  circumspect  m order  to  get  its  share  of  students  tlu 
danger  is  very  small  indeed,  that  the  hand  of  oppression  will  be  hkv 
upon  the  students.  I am  not  anxious  to  press  this  view  of  the  subiect 
because  It  is  unnecessary.  Men  cannot  be  found,  intrusted  withom 
high  literary  institutions,  who  are  capable  of  being  on  the  wrong  sid, 
® contest  arises  between  them  and  the  students 

2.  The  second  suggestion  is,  that,  in  every  rebellion,  public  senti^ 
ment  will  always  set  against  the  students.  > F c semi 

Multitudes  have  been  disappointed  in  this  respect,  and  that  too 
most  grievously.  A great  number  get  excited  on  some  subiect— t 
subiect  about  whiclp  individually,  they  would  be  ashamed  to  murmur, 
if  they  had  to  do  it  alone:  they  have  meetings,  they  talk,  they  make 
most  thrilling  speeches,  and  work  the  thing  up,  till,  in  the  medium 
through  which  they  are  looking,  their  sufferings  are  intolerable,  and 
the  conduct  of  the  faculty  is  atrocious.  Mever  were  young  men  oi 
such  ohpacter  and  promise  p treated  before.  They  pass  risolutions 
heated  ni  the  furnace  of  passion;  they  transmit  these  to  their  instruct- 
or^ and  then  breast  themselves  in  their  positions,  and,  in  tones  of 
defiance,  ask,  in  all  the  spirit  of  a command,  that  the  faculty  meet  their 
wushes  The  faculty  have  seen  such  storms  before:  secure  in  their  onm 
upright  designs-secure  m the  confidence  of  the  whole  community- 
they  coolly  tell  their  threatening  pupils,  that  they  are  the  party  to 
yield,  to  submit  to  law,  to  acknowledge  wrong,  and  promise  to  do 
better.  But  they  will  not  yield-not  tfey.  TfeywillSra  bi 
which  will  shake  tne  institution  to  its  very  foundations.  Thev  will 
leave,  and  ajnieal  to  the  j^bhc.  To  the  public  they  appeal,  in  tones 
loud  and  high- wrought.  The  good  public  hears  them;  Ld,  here  and 
there  a very  radical  newspaper  utters  a faint  echo  of  sympathy  but 
for  the  most  part,  at  least  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a hundred  the 
good  public  laughs  at  the  appeal,  despises  the  threatenings,  mocks  at 
the  idea  that  these  niisguided  youths  are  not  lost  to  any  useful  nurnose 
turns  and  applauds  the  firmness  of  the  institution,  and  gathers  round 
It  with  new  confidence.  Others  now  rush  to  fill  their  places,  reioicing 
to  put  themselves  under  men  who  have  laws  and  regulations  and  who 
will,  at  any  rate,  see  that  these  laws  are  respected  and  obeyed. 


a,  vii.]  FOLLt  OF  STUDFNTS^  GONTFSTS.  ' 127 

3.  The  third  suggestion  is,  that,  in  these  cases,  the  students  always 

aiss  their  aim.  , . p .. 

The  aim  of  every  rebellion  is,  to  free  the  students  from  the  exercise 
•f  severe,  arbitrary  power.  But,  so  far  from  doing  this,  the  very  first 
aoment  you  rebel,  you  place  yourself  entirely  within  the  grasp  of  that 
>ower.  While  you  obey  the  laws,  they  are  your  protection,  and  no 
a justice  can  be  done  to  you;  but  the  very  moment  that  you  vidate 
hem  you  lie  at  the  mercy  of  those  who  execute  those  laws.  You 
lold  your  place  in  your  class,  and  in  the  institution,  entirely  by  court- 
isy;  and,  of  all  the  situations  for  a noble  mind  to  be  placed  in,  this  is 
he  most  humiliating.  “A  great  mind  disdains  to  hold  anything  by 
;ourtesy,  and  therefore  never  usurps  what  a lawful  claimant  may  take 
iway.”  Such  is  the  testimony  of  one  whom  every  student  in  the 
vorld  reverences.  * Do  the  young  men  think  of  this,  when  they  rush 
nto  a rebellion?  Like  the  poor  fly  attempting  to  free  himself  from 
t web  into  which  he  voluntarily  thrusts  himself,  every  plunge,  and 
jvery  agony  of  passion,  only  takes  from  his  strength,  and  places  him 
nore  and  more  at  the  mercy  of  his  destroyer.  Was  a class,  or  any 
)art  of  a class,  ever  known  to  better  themselves,  in  any  respect,  by  a 
’ebellion?  It  is  a very  expensive  way  of  gaining  redress;  and,  what  is 
ivorse,  the  redress  is  never  gained.  A man  who  has  been  considered 
ilmost  an  oracle  to  the  nation,  once  contrived  a new  kind  of  saw-mill, 
[t  was  to  go  by  wind.  But  for  the  purpose  of  having  the  wind,  he 
Duilt  it  on  the  highest  hill  in  the  region.  There  the  wind  w;as  strong 
ind  unfailing.  The  mill  was  built,  and  worked  to  admiration.  But 
Iiere  was  one  capital  defect,  after  all.  The  hill  teas  so  high^  and  so 
^teep,  that  he  coidd  never  get  a log  to  his  mill.  It  would  repay  for  the 
^reat  efforts  necessary  to  get  up  a rebellion  in  coUege,  were  there  any 
possible  way  of  making  it  of  any  use,  when  once  excited.  But  this 
will  always  be  an  unanswerable  objection  to  the  whole  system. 

4.  The  fourth  suggestion  is,  that  a rebellion  generally  results  in  the 
ruin  of  several  members  of  the  institution. 

When  an  excitement  first  begins,  it  is  usually  among  some  two  or 
three,  who  feel  that  they  possess  popularity  among  their  fellows,  and 
kvho  are  conscious  that  they  are  none  too  popular  with  their  instructors. 
They  raise  the  cry  of  oppression,  and,  in  order  to  lead  others  forward, 
!at  once  make  two  or  three  plunges,  which,  they  are  aware,  put  their 
own  characters  beyond  recovery.  Their  all  is  now  staked,  and  the 
more  they  can  draw  away  with  them,  the  better  they  will  feel;  just  as 
ihighwaymen  are  said  to  feel  that  their  vocation  is  honorable  in  pro- 
portion to  the  number  of  outlaws  they  can  muster.  Having  once  com- 
mitted themselves,  their  song  is. 


i28  ■ RESULTS  OF  COFfESTS.  [cH.  vij 

“Rebellion  is  my  theme  all  day; 

I only  wish  ’twoiild  come 

(As  who  knows  but  perhaps  it  may?)  * 

A little  nearer  home.  ’ ’ 

The  excitement  becoming  more  general,  the  great  body  who  fall  ii 
and  plunge  with  the  rest,  do  not  stop  to  ask  whether  they  have  a causi 
that  will  justify  them  in  so  doing;  nor  do  they  ask  who  are  the  leader 
in  it,  nor  what  will  be  the  results;  but  they  are  afraid  of  losing  popu 
larity  by  any  appearance  of  reluctance.  They  cannot  stand  befon 
the  finger  of  contempt,  which  at  once  points  at  them,  nor  endim 
those  names  and  keen  reproaches  which  are  so  intolerable  to  a man  o 
generous  spirit,  if  in  any  measure  deserved.  Four-fifths,  at  least,  wh( 
are  drawn  into  a rebellion,  do  it  from  fear  of  losing  their  popularity 
among  their  fellows.  I have  known  those  who  could  bluster  at  j 
public  meeting,  and  talk  of  trampling  the  “sheep-skin,”  or  diploma 
under  foot  with  contempt,  go  away  to  their  rooms  and  weep  at  th( 
thought  that  they  were  preparing  a cup  of  sorrow  for  a father,  whos< 
heart  was  bound  up  in  his  son,  or  were  about  to  dash  the  hopes  of  th( 
fond,  widowed  mother,  who  had  denied  herself  all  the  luxuries,  ano 
many  of  the  comforts  of  life,  for  years,  that  she  might  educate  he:' 
son.  And  then,  there  is  an  affectation  of  manly  feeling,  the  show  of  t 
spirit  that  can  rise  above  the  loss  of  hopes  and  prospects,  and  dare  tc 
make  its  own  destiny.  Few  things  are  more  insupportable  to  th( 
young  man  than  to  have  his  courage  challenged.  He  will  throw  him 
self  headlong  into  a rebellion  to  show  that  he  is  a lad  of  spirit  ant 
courage.  Brave  ^youth!  he  need  not  pay  such  a price  for  what  u 
already  acknowledged  to  be  his.  Hobody  will  or  does  doubt  the 
courage  of  our  young  men  at  our  seminaries.  Educated  as  they  are. 
they  have  a courage  wdiich  death  could  not  destroy.  Why  shoulc 
they  commit  suicide  to  prove  what  needs  no  proof? 

I beseech  my  young  friends  to  consider  the  results  of  a rebellion! 
It  may  not  injure  him  who  is  now  reading  these  lines.  But  a rebel 
lion  must  and  will  result  in  prodigious  evils.  Seldom  does  an  institu, 
tion  pass  through  such  a scene  without  having  a third,  a half,  and  not 
unfrequently  the  whole,  of  a class  expelled,  or  sent  away  with  such 
marks  of  disgrace  and  disapprobation,  that  no  respectable  college  will 
hereafter  receive  them.  The  result  will  be,  that  the  rebellion  is  pur- 
chased by  the  ruin  of  nearly  all  those  who  are  sacrificed  in  the  contest. 
1l  ou  may  take  the  names  of  all  who  have  thus  violently  broke  away 
from  college,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  see  how  few  of  them  ev^ 
reach  eminence,  or  even  respectability,  in  any  profession.  It  has 
always  been  so,  and  must  continue  to  be  so.  There  are  two  reasons 


3H.  VII. 


RESULTS  OF  CONTESTS. 


m 

svhy  it  must  be  so.  First,  a young  man  cannot  go  through  a rebelhon, 
ind  he  sent  from  college,  without  receiving  such  a shock  m the  process, 
iihat  it  will  be  next  to  impossible  to  recover  from  it.  ]^o  sudden 
3hanges  can  be  otherwise  than  injurious  to  the  mind.  Scarcely  any 
3han«e  can  be  greater  than  takes  place  when  a student  is,  in  a 
moment,  thrust  from  the  bosom  of  his  college  into  the  world,  with  a 
character  unformed,  and  without  the  power  of  retrieving  his  loss.  He 
may  laugh  at  his  prospects,  talk  with  contempt  about  being  ‘ ‘ incapaci- 
tated from  admission  into  every  institution  of  our  country,”  and  writh- 
ing beneath  the  indignation  of  a father,  and  the  weeping  reproaches  of 
1 mother ; but  when  the  die  is  once  cast,  and  he  is  once  thrown  out 
upon  the  world,  and  separated  from  the  cheering  voices  of  those  who 
ire  in  like  condemnation  with  himself,  he  will  find  his  heart  is  desolate 
indeed.  Home,  the  most  delightful  spot  upon  earth,  can  bring  no  joy 
bo  him.  He  goes  there,  and  meets  the  face  of  the  father  whose  good- 
ness he  has  abused,  and  whose  hopes  he  has  blasted , of  the  mother 
whose  sorrows  and  anxieties  he  has  repaid  by  dashing  the  fond  pride 
of  one  whose  heart’s  blood  would  freely  flow  for  him;  of  the  sisters 
who  used  to  come  around  him  as  their  guide,  and  cheer  him  on  by 
every  means  in  their  power.  All  is  disappointment  at  home.  Does 
he  leave  home  and  turn  to  his  acquaintances?  They  despise  one  who 
would  thus  throw  away  the  highest  advantages,  and  prefer  his  will,  at 
the  expense  of  the  happiness  of  his  family,  and  of  his  own  prospects. 
His  soul  has  been  frenzied  almost  to  madness,  and  the  passions  have 
been  called  up  till  the  reason  sunk  under  them;  and  now,  when  the 
boiling  waters  subside,  and  Reason  once  more  looks  abroad,  she  sees 
what  was  before  a rich  and  beautiful  vale,  now  desolated  and  seared 
by  fire.  Of  all  who  know  him,  he  can  receive  sympathy  from  none, 
whose  sympathy  is  not  a disgrace.  He  is  now  in  great  danger  of  fly- 
ino-  to  stimulants  to  relieve  and  drown  his  troubles,  or  of  sinking  down 
; in  misanthrophy  and  inactivity.  The  shock  which  his  whole  chaiacter 
liand  plans  have  received  is  inconceivably  great.  The  bankruptcy  of 
1 the  merchant  who  falls  from  profuse  wealth  even  to  eating  the  bread 
of  charity,  will  not,  in  any  measure,  compare  with  it.  Few  can  ever 
hope  to  recover  from  such  a fall. 

The  second  reason  why  such  young  men  as  are  thus  sent  from  col- 
lege can  hardly  ever  reach  respectability,  is,  that  they  forever  deprive 
themselves  of  the  very  discipline  of  mind  which  is  absolutely  essential 
to  form  a distinguished  character.  I am  not  wishing  to  pass  a univer- 
sal censure,  nor  to  say  that  there  may  not  be,  here  and  there,  a rare 
instance  in  which  the  loss  has  been  made  up,  and  the  young  man  has 
. been  saved.  These,  if  the  cases  do  ever  occur,  are  exceptions.  But 
9 


130 


MESULfS  OF  CONTESTS.  [cH.  Vii 

break  off  a young  man  from  his  studies  when  he  has  but  just  com- 
menced the  discipline  of  his  mind,  shut  him  out  from  every  institution 
in  the  land,  and  let  him  feel  that  he  has  committed  an  error  which  can 
never  be  retrieved,  and  where  is  he  to  obtain  that  mental  discipline, 
^d  that  thorough  education,  which  are  essential  to  his  future  success 
His  plans  are  all  broken  up;  his  associates  in  study  are  all  dissevered 
from  him;  his  instructors  are  all  taken  from  him;  and  his  prospect  of 
ever  becoming  what  he  once  justly  hoped,  is  small  indeed.  You  will 
never  find  a man  over  the  age  of  forty,  who  was  ever  engaged  in  a 
college  rebellion,  or  who  ever  saw  one,  who  will  not  speak  of  it  in 
terms  of  the  most  decided  disapprobation. 

Besides,  are  you  acting  a generous,  manly  part?  You  have  volun- 
tarily placed  yourself  under  the  laws  of  your  college,  and  under  the 
men  who  administer  those  laws ; you  have  promised  solemnly  to  obey 
them.  And  now,  w"hat  shall  be  said  about  the  honor  of  a young  man 
who  engages  in  a rebellion,  and  talks  about  his  “honor, ’’while  he  is 
violating  that  honor  which  he  pledged  when  he  became  a member  of 
that  institution  ? If  you  feel  that  you  are  not  dealt  with  justly  and 
fairly  that  you  are  degraded  and  abused — ask  and  receive  an  honora- 
ble dismission,  and  go  to  some  other  college,  where  you  will  be  prop- 
erly treated.  But  do  not  plunge  yourself,  your  class-mates,  your 
parents,  and  the  whole  circle  of  friends,  into  deep  trouble  and  lasting 
sorrow,  with  the  vain  hope  of  making  it  clear  that  you  are  a young 
man  of  honor,  nice  feelings,  or  of  true  courage.  Ho  one  doubts  that 
you  possess  all  these.  But  vou  run  too  great  a hazard  when  you  stake 
your  character,  and  that  of  others  younger  than  yourself,  wdio  will 
follow  you,  upon  the  desperate  attempt  of  dictating  conditions  to  a 
literary  institution.  It  is  thoughtlessness  of  the  consequences,  rather 
than  deep  depravity,  which  draws  so  many  into  these  troubles.  If  you 
are  such  a genius  that  it  must  work  out  of  your  fingers  ends,  and  your 
hands  cannot  keep  out  of  mischief,  go  home,  and  employ  those  hands, 
in  some  mechanical  business.  But  do  not  stay  where  you  are  acting  a 
part  dishonorable  to  your  own  feelings,  w^hich  will,  sooner  or  later, ^ 
end  in  lasting  disgrace.  Have  the  hardihood,  if  it  be  required,  to  over- 
look petty  inconveniences  and  vexations  in  your  present  situation,  and, 
while  you  are  a student,  stand  up  in  all  the  strength  of  an  honorable, 
high-minded  man. 


“Os  liomini  sublime  dedit 
— Coelumque  tueri.  ” 

That  you  will  meet  with  many  things,  in  themselves  disagreeable, 
and  trying  to  your  habits  and  your  patience,  you  must  expect.  The 


WHY  HXERCLSE  IS  NEEDED. 


131 


CH.  VIII.] 

whole  season  of  study  is  one  of  unpleasant  restraint  and  of  severe  dis- 
cipline. It  will  cost  many  sacrifices  of  feeling  to  obtain  a good  educa- 
tion; but,  w^hen  once  obtained,  you  will  be  your  own  master,  will  be 
fit  to  govern  yourself,  and  will  feel  amply  repaid  for  all  that  you  en- 
dure. But  if  you  would  respect  yourself  through  life,  be  free  from 
perpetual  mortification,  never  engage  in  a college  rebellion. 


viir. 

EXEECISE— DIET— ECOl^OMY. 

So  much  has  of  late  been  written  on  the  subject  of  exercise,  that  it 
is  in  danger  of  becoming  a stale  subject,  even  before  it  is  understood, 
and  long  before  it  is  reduced  to  systematic  practice.  It  must  be  plain  to 
iny  reader,  in  the  very  outset,  that  the  whole  hopes,  prospects,  every- 
thing dear  to  the  student,  must  depend  upon  his  health.  If  the  powers 
of  the  body  be  palsied  or  prostrated,  or  in  any  way  abused,  his  mind 
must  so  far  sympathize  as  to  be  unfitted  for  making  progress  in  study. 
You  may  let  the  system  run  down  and  lose  its  tone  by  neglect,  and, 
for  a time,  the  mind  retains  its  activity,  as  the  fires  created  by  some 
kinds  of  fuel,  burn  brighter  and  brigher,  till  they  sink  away  at  once. 
Sometimes,  Avhile  the  poorhouse  in  which  the  soul  resides  is  rapidly 
preparing  to  fall,  the  mind  is  even  more  active  as  decay  apj)roacKes, 
and  the  fires  of  the  soul  burn  with  a more  beautiful  and  intense  glow. 
So  it  is  said,  that  the  ear  will  frequently  become  so  exquisite,  just  be- 
fore dissolution,  that  it  can  gather  music  from  the  room  of  death ; the 
harp  is  about  to  be  crushed  in  pieces,  but,  ere  it  breaks,  it  sends  forth 
notes  that  are  sweet  beyond  expression,  till  it  breathes  itself  away  into 
ruins. 

In  other  employments,  if  health  fails,  it  may  be  recovered,  in  many 
cases,  by  care  and  exercise.  The  business  goes  on,  and  the  loss  of  time 
and  property  usually  do  not  suffer  at  once.  Xot  so  with  him  wdiose  all 
depends  upon  the  constant  employment  of  the  mind.  Three  months’ 
loss  of  time,  while  in  college,  will  blast  many  fair  hopes  and  bright 
prospects:  it  will  depress  you  and  perplex  you  as  a scholar,  and,  prob- 
ably, have  a material  influence  upon  you  through  the  whole  of  life. 
You  may  be  poor — you  may  have  had  but  small  advantages  heretofore; 
but  above  these,  by  industry  and  application,  you  may  rise.  But,  if 
[your  health  be  gone,  you  are  at  once  cut  off  from  doing  anything  by 
iway  of  study.  The  mind  cannot  and  will  not  accomplish  anything, 


1 


133  CA  UTIO  USNES8  NEGESSAB  T.  [ch.  vin. 

unless  you  have  good  health.  Eesolve,  then,  at  any  rate,  so  far  as  it 
depends  upon  yourself,  you  will  have  the  mens  sana  in  sano  corpore. 

It  is  frequently  the  case  that  the  student,  as  the  fields  of  knowledge 
open  before  him  in  all  their  boundless  extent,  feeling  strong  in  the 
buoyancy  and  elasticity  of  youth,  and  knowing  that  his  character  must 
all  depend  upon  himself,  sits  down  closely  to  his  books,  resolved  to 
sto})  for  nothing,  till  his  scholarship  is  fair  and  high.  The  first,  the 
second,  and  the  third  admonitions,  in  regard  to  his  health,  are  un- 
heeded, till,  at  last,  he  can  study  no  longer,  and  then,  too  late,  he  dis- 
covers that  the  seeds  of  death  are  planted  in  him.  The  more  prom- 
ising the  student,  the  higher  are  his  aims,  and  the  stronger  are  the 
aspirations  of  his  genius,  the  greater  is  the  danger.  Multitudes  of  the 
most  promising  young  men  have,  within  the  last  few  years,  found  an 
early  grave; — not  because  they  studied  too  intensely,  but  because  they 
paid  no  attention  to  the  body.  The  beautiful  lament  which  was  sung 
over  the  gifted  White  might  be  repeated  every  year,  and  be  equally 
applicable  to  many  who  were  of  equal  promise,  though  their  names  are 
‘ ‘ unknown  to  song.  ’ ' 

“Oh!  what  a noble  heart  was  here  undone, 

When  Science  self  destroy’d  her  favorite  son! 

Yes,  she  too  much  indulged  thy  fond  pursuit; 

She  sow’d  the  seeds,  but  Death  has  reap’d  the  fruit. 

’Twas  thine  own  genius  gave  the  final  blow, 

And  help’d  to  plant  the  wound  that  laid  thee  low: 

So  the  struck  eagle,  stretch’d  upon  the  plain, 

No  more  througli  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again. 

View’d  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart, 

And  wing’d  the  shaft  that  quivered  in  his  heart. 

Keen  were  his  pangs;  but  keener  fnr  to  feel. 

He  nursed  the  pinion  which  impell’d  the  steel ; 

While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warm’d  his  nest. 

Drank  the  last  life-drop  of  his  bleeding  breast.” 

It  may  no  doubt  be  true,  that  the  man  who  sits  down  to  study,  and 
gives  his  whole  soul  to  it,  without  much,  if  any,  regard  to  health,  may, 
for  a time,  improve  fast,  and  mature  with  great  rapidity.  He  may 
pass  over  the  ground  fast,  and  appear  a prodigy  of  genius.  But  it  is 
almost  certain  that  such  a one  is  soon  to  reach  the  limits  of  his  attain- 
ments, and,  if  he  does  not  speedily  find  his  grave,  will  soon  be  too 
feeble  to  do  anything  but  drag  out  a discouraging  existence.  For  one, 
I do  not  feel  that  it  is  so  very  desirable  to  mature  the  mind  as  early  as 
some  strive  to  do ; and,  perhaps  we  labor  under  a great  mistake,  on 
this  point,  in  this  country.  Our  country  is  a youth,  and  nothing  but 
what  is  elastic  and  youthful  is  in  fashion.  Our  legislators,  our  pro- 
fessional men,  must  all  be  young  to  be  popular.  The  stars  are  to  be 


m.Yiu.]  STUDY  MV 8T  ENDANGER  HEALTH.  133 

ooked  at  only  while  they  are  rising.  A man  of  fifty  is  considered  ak 
nost  superannuated,  with  us.  Such  is  the  fashion.  It  is  not  so  in 
other  countries.  Even  La  Fayette  would  not  have  been  considered  fit 
]0  stand  at  the  head  of  a great  national  army,  in  times  of  revolution 
n this  country,  after  he  was  eighty.  In  England,  the  throne  is  usually 
}urrounded  by  a galaxy  of  talent  which  is  the  admiration  of  the  world. 
A"e  they  men  who  matured  in  boyhood,  and  whose  education  w^as 
jompleted  at  twenty-five?  Ear  from  it.  They  are  usually  old  men, 
jv'hose  minds  have  been  slow  in  becoming  mature,  whose  judgment  has 
3een  made  sound  by  reading,  by  thought,  by  observation,  and  by 
,rears.  I make  these  remarks,  because  I would  have  our  young  men 
reel  that  the  business  of  study  is  for  life ; and  that,  instead  of  trying 
h do  all  that  can  be  done  in  a very  short  time,  they  should  lay  their 
ilans,  and  make  their  calculations  to  live  long,  and  for  many  years  be 
mproving  and  ripening  for  usefulness. 

It  is  impossible  for  any  man  to  be  a student  without  endangering  his 
lealth.  Man  was  made  to  be  active.  The  hunter,  who  roams  through 
ihe  forest,  or  climbs  the  rocks  of  the  Alps,  is  the  man  Avho  is  hardy, 
|nd  in  the  most  perfect  health.  The  sailor  who  has  been  rocked  by  a 
thousand  storms,  and  who  labors  day  and  night,  is  a hardy  man,  un- 
iiess  dissipation  has  broken  his  constitution.  Any  man  of  active  habits 
s likely  to  enjoy  good  health,  if  he  does  not  too  frequently  over  exert 
l^mself.  But  the  student’s  habits  are  all  unnatural;  and  by  them  na- 
ture is  continually  cramped  and  restrained.  “Men  err  in  nothing  more 
:han  in  the  estimate  which  they  make  of  human  labor.  The  hero  of 
iihe  world  is  the  man  that  makes  a bustle — the  man  that  makes  the 
road  smoke  under  his  chaise- and  four — the  man  that  raises  a dust  about 
5im — the  man  that  ravages  or  devastates  empires! — But  what  is  the 
real  labor  of  this  man,  compared  with  that  of  a silent  sufferer  1 He 
lives  on  his  projects  ; he  encounters,  perhaps,  rough  roads,  incom- 
modious inns,  bad  food,  storms  and  perils,  weary  daj^s  and  sleepless 
nights; — but  what  are  these?  His  project,  his  point,  the  thing  that 
Ihas  laid  hold  on  his  heart,  glory,  a name,  consequence,  pleasure,  wealth 
I —these  render  the  man  callous  to  the  pains  and  efforts  of  the  body.  I 
have  been  in  both  states,  and  therefore  understand  them : and  I know 
that  men  form  this  false  estimate.  Besides,  there  is  sometliing  in 
bustle,  and  stir,  and  activity,  that  supports  itself.  At  one  period,  I 
preached  and  read  five  times  on  a Sunday,  and  rode  sixteen  miles. 
But  what  did  it  cost  me?  Hothing!  Yet  most  men  would  have  looked 
on,  while  I was  rattling  from  village  to  village,  with  all  the  dogs  bark- 
ing at  my  heels,  and  would  have  called  me  a hero ; whereas,  if  they 
^vere  to  look  at  me  now,  they  would  caU  me  an  idle,  lounging  feUow,” 


134 


EXERCISE. 


y 


[CH.  VIII. 

‘ ‘ He  gets  into  his  study — he  walks  from  end  to  end — he  scribbles  on  a 
scrap  of  paper — he  throws  it  away,  and  scribbles  on  another — he  sits 
down — scribbles  again — walks  about!”  The  man  cannot  see  that  here 
is  an  exhaustion  of  the  spirit  which,  at  night,  will  leave  me  worn  tc 
the  extremity  of  endurance.  He  cannot  see  the  numberless  efforts  o1 
mind,  which  are  crossed  and  stifled,  and  recoil  on  the  spirits  like  the 
fruitless  efforts  of  a traveler  to  get  firm  footing  among  the  ashes  or 
the  steep  sides  of  Mount  Etna. 

There  can  be  no  room  for  doubt,  in  the  mind  of  an  attentive 
observer,  that  one  cause  why  so  many  of  our  promising  young  mer 
sink  into  a premature  grave,  is,  that  they  try  to  do  so  much  in  so  shorl 
a time.  By  this  I mean,  that  they  feel  that  the  great  work  of  discip 
lining  and  stocking  the  mind  must  be  done  before  the  age  of  twenty 
five.  Whoever  embraces  this  notion,  must,  at  once,  abandon  the  idej 
of  ever  excelling,  or  else  he  must  sit  down  to  his  books  with  an  inten 
sity  of  apphcation  that  cannot  but  endanger  life. 

There  are  several  difficulties  in  the  way  of  your  taking  regular,  vig 
orous  exercise. 

1.  You  do  not  now  feel  the  necessity  of  it. 

We  take  no  medicine  till  necessity  compels  us;  and  exercise  to  tin 
student  is  a constant  medicine.  You  are  now  young;  you  feel  bouy 
ant,  have  a good  appetite,  have  strength,  fine  health,  and  fine  spirits 
Time  flies  on  downy  wings.  Why  should  you  teach  yourself  to  be  ; 
slave  to  exercise,  and  bring  yourself  into  habits  which  would  compe 
you,  every  day,  to  take  exercise?  It  seems  like  fittiug  yourself  with  i 
pair  of  heavy  crutches,  when  you  have  as  good  legs  to  walk  with  a: 
ever  carried  an  emperor.  Let  those  who  are  in  danger  of  the  gout,  o; 
of  falling  victims  to  disordered  stomachs,  begin  the  regimen ; but  fo: 
yourself  you  do  not  feel  your  need.  Ho,  nor  will  you  feel  it,  till  yo- 
are  probably  so  far  gone,  that  exercise  cannot  recover  you.  On  thi' 
point,  you  must  take  the  testimony  of  the  multitudes  who  have  goir 
over  the  ground  on  which  you  now  stand,  and  who  understand  it  all 
They  will  tell  you,  that  it  is  not  at  your  option  whether  you  will  tak' 
exercise  or  not ; you  must  take  exercise,  or  you  are  lost  to  all  you] 
hopes  and  all  your  prospects. 

k You  feel  pressed  for  time^  and  therefore  ca/unot  take  exercise. 

Your  hours  of  reciting  are  all  marked  out.  The  bell  Avill  ring  at  th( 
moment,  and,  prepared  or  not,  you  must  be  at  recitation.  You  hav( 
such  a pressure  of  studies — perhaps  labor  under  some  peculiar  disad 
vantages — and  so  many  extra  efforts  to  make  out  of  the  regular  stud] 
hours,  that  you  really  cannot  find  time  to  exercise.  Let  me  tell  yoi 
that  you  miscalculate  on  one  important  point.  If  you  will  try  the  plai 


EXEMCISE. 


105 


;s.  vin.] 


)t’  taking  regular,  vigorous  exercise  every  day  for  a single  term,  you 
p^ill  find  that  you  can  perform  the  same  duties,  and  the  same  amount 
l)f  study  much  easier  than  without  the  exercise.  The  difference  will 
oe  astonishing  to  yourself.  The  time  spent  in  thus  invigorating  the 
jystem  will  be  made  up,  many  times  over,  in  the  ease  and  comfort  with 
vhich  your  mind  takes  hold  of  study. 

3.  You  do  not  feel  interested  in  your  exercise^  and  therefore  do  not 

*dke  it.  ^ 1 -n  1 

Many  schemes  have  been  devised,  by  which  the  student  will  take 
regular  exercise,  and,  at  the  same  time,  be  interested  in  it.  The  man- 
ia! labor  system  has  been  greatly  extolled.  The  gymnastic  system  was 
ao  less  so.  In  the  latter,  1 have  never  had  any  confidence;  aud  though 
[would  not  speak  decidedly  against  tht;  former,  inasmuch  as  it  niay,  in 
3ertain  cases,  do  good,  yet  I must  say  that  I do  not  believe  it  will  pre- 
vail, in  our  systems  of  education,  to  any  great  extent.  The  system 
must  stand,  if  at  all,  by  appealing  to  the  selfishness  or  wants  of  the 
student,  and  telling  him  that  in  this  way  he  can  earn  money.  But  this 
will  not  be  true  in  all  cases,  and  probably  not  in  a majority  of  in- 
stances. But  there  seems  to  me  one  great  objection  to  it ; and  that  is, 
it  is  too  monotonous.  When  you  lay  aside  your  books,  you  want 
something  to  do  which  will  not  merely  relax  the  mind  from  the  fatigue 
of  study,  but  which  will  also  tend  to  enliven  it,  and  render  it  cheerful. 
The  monotony  of  the  work-shop  will  hardly  do  this.  Judging  from 
experience,  I decidedly  prefer  walking  to  all  other  exercise  for  the 
student.  Buchan  urges  it  as  the  best  possible  exercise,  as  it  calls  more 
muscles  into  motion  than  any  other  which  is  not  positively  painful. 
The  advantages  of  this  mode  of  exercise  are,  that  it  is  simple.  The 
apparatus  is  all  at  hand  complete.  You  need  not  wait  for  any  impor- 
tation of  machinery.  It  is  in  the  open  air,  sO'-  that  the  lungs  can,  at 
once,  receive  the  pure  air  of  heaven,  and  the  eye  gaze  upon  hill  and 
dale,  upon  trees  and  flowers,  upon  objects  animate  and  inanimate.  The 
very  objects  of  sight  and  sound  cheer  and  enliven  the  mind,  and  raise 
the  spirits.  The  noise  of  the  hammer  or  saw,  the  waUs  of  the  shop, 
and  the  whole  interior  of  the  workshop,  have  a very  different  effect 
upon  the  feelings  and  spirits.  If  any  one  is  sceptical  on  this  point,  a 
few  months’  trial  in  the  two  places  will  remove  all  doubt.  Another 
advantage  of  walking  is,  that  you  can  have  a friend  to  walk  with,  and 
unbend  the  mind,  and  cheer  the  spirits,  by  pleasant  conversation. 
This  is  a point  of  great  consequence  ; and  it  can  be  attained  only  in 
walking.  You  hear  the  same  sounds,  you  see  the  same  objects,  you 
relieve  the  way  and  the  fatigues  of  exercise,  by  conversation.  For 
this  reason,  you  should  calculate,  in  most  cases,  to  have  company  in 


136 


EKEnClSE. 


[cfl.  vul 


your  walks.  Once  try  tlie  method  of  walking  with  a friend  regular^j 
for  a few  weeks,  and  you  will  be  surprised  at  the  results.  On  thos 
afternoons  in  which  study  is  not  required,  be  sure  and  take  long  walks 
and  lay  up  health  for  days  to  coine._  I once  knew  two  studeats  wb 
invigorated  their  constitutions  astonishingly  by  this  simple  process 
During  one  summer,  they  walked  over  two  hundred  miles  in  company 
counting  no  walk  which  was  under  five  miles.  In  a short  time,  yoi 
will  feel  so  much  at  home  in  the  exercise,  that  you  will  not  inquir 
what  weather  it  is,  but,  Has  the  hour  for  walking  arrived? 

4.  The  habits  of  the  student  make  any  bodily  exertions  fatigumg 
and  therefore  you  neglect  exercise.  ' 

There  is  no  need  of  going  into  the  physician’s  department,  ami 
assigning  the  reasons,  why,  by  disuse,  the  body  soon  comes  to  a statj 
in  which  we  feel  it  a burden  to  make  exertions.  The  fact  is  unquel 
tionable.  You  may  go  to  your  books,  and  shut  yourself  up  in  you 
room  for  weeks  almost  constantly,  and  the  idea  of  walking  two  o 
three  miles  will  almost  fatigue  you  of  itself.  The  muscles,  the  joints 
the  Vhole  house  reluctates  at  the  thought  of  moving.  The  limbs  wil 
ache  in  a few  moments,  and  the  will  has  not  the  power  to  enforci 
obedience.  Every  day  you  put  off  the  habit  of  exercise,  the  difficulty 
becomes  greater;  so  that  he  who  has  not  regular  times  for  taking  exei* 
cise,  will  soon  cease  to  take  any.  Nothing  can  make  it  pleasant,  oi 
even  tolerable,  but  the  constant  practice  of  it.  You  cannot  snatdi 
it  here  and  there  and  find  it  an  amusement,  as  you  can  take  up  a news, 
paper;  for  it  will  be  a burden.  Many  have,  now  and  then,  taken  wha; 
they  call  “a  dish  of  exercise;”  and  when  over,  they  felt  worse  thai 
when  they  took  none;  indeed,  it  came  near  making  them  sick;  and  ^ 
they  sagely  conclude  that  exercise  does  not  agree  with  them.  Lik( 
the  Indian,  with  a single  feather  under  his  head  on  the  rock,  am 
which  made  him  wonder  how  any  one  could  sleep  on  a whole  bed  q: 
feathers,  they  wonder  what  they  do  who  exercise  daily.  Exercise  i 
pleasant  or  otherwise,  not  in  proportion  to  its  being  light  or  heavy,  bn 
to  its  regularity.  The  habits  of  the  mind,  and  more  especially  those  oi 
the  body,  will  forever  forbid  your  enjoying  the  luxuries  and'the  bene 
fits  of  it,  unless  it  be  regular.  Keep  this  in  mind,  and  it  will  probably 
account  for  much  of  the  unwillingness  which  you  may  now  feel 
taking  exercise. 

Exercise,  then,  to  be  a blessing  to  you,  must  be  qualified  by  the  fol 
lowing  rules : — 

(a).  It  must  be  regular  and  daily. 

Nature  has  planted  hunger  within  us,  so  that  we  shall  daily  briu| 
supplies, jo  meet  the  wastes  of  the  body.  But,  without  exercise,  tin 


EXERCISE. 


137 


r 


a,  viii.j 


^tem  has  not  the  power  to  appropriate  these  supphes,  reduce 
lem  so  that  they  become  nutriment.  Be  as  regular  in  tahing  ex- 
S as  yoa  are  in  taking  your  food.  There  can  be  no  good  excuse, 

} lon^  afyou  have  feet,  which,  in  a few  moments,  will  give  you  the 
est  of  exercise. 

(M.  It  should  be  pleasant  and  agreeable.  m,!  it 

The  tread-mill  would  afford  regular  and  powerful  eprcise,  but  it 
rould  be  intolerably  irksome.  It  might  give  yon  iron  sinews,  but  the 
3ul  would  be  gloomy  and  cheerless.  It  is  of  the  first  importance, 
kat  you  take  pleasure  in  the  exercise.  Walking  is  good,  but  »ot  ff 
ou  must  walk  in  a bark-mill.  Biding  is  good,  but  not— if  jou  bad 
0 ride  a wooden  horse,  or  a trip-hammer.  Be  sure  and  cultivate 
heerfulness  during  your  hour  of  exercise.  “Writers  of  every  age  have 
ndeavored  to  show  that  pleasure  is  in  us,  and  not  in  the  objects 
flered  for  our  amusement.  If  the  soul  be  happily  disposed,  everything 
©comes  a subject  of  entertainment,  and  distress  will  almost  want  a 
lame  Every  occurrence  passes  in  review  like  the  figures  of  a proces- 
ion:  some  may  be  awkward,  others  ill-dressed;  but^  none  but  a fool  is 
or  this  enraged  with  the  master  of  the  ceremonies. 

(c  ^ It  should  relax  the  mind. 

Wilosophy  can  teach  us  to  be  stubborn  or  sullen  when  misfortunes 
ome-  anLeligion  can  enable  us  to  bear  them  with  resignation;  but 
o a man  whose  health  and  spirits  are  good,  thejr  never  come  with  their 
ull  power.  We  should  aim  to  keep  both  the  mind  and  body  in  sucl  a 
'ondition,  that  our  present  circumstances  are  plea,sant,  and  the  future 
ire  undreaded.  But  this  cannot  be  done  if  the  mind  be  always  keyed 
in  like  the  strings  of  the  musical  instrument.  The  mind  that  attains 
,he  habit  of  throwing  off  study  and  anxieW,  and  relaxing  itself  at 
ince,  has  obtained  a treasure.  It  was  this  that  gave  the  famous  Ca,i- 
linal  De  Betz  his  power  over  his  circumstances,  and  which  could  enable 
lim  to  smile  at  his  destiny.  When  fallen  into  the  hands  of  bis  dead- 
iest  enemy,  and  confined  a close  prisoner,  he  laughed  at  himself  and 
it  his  nerskutor.  ‘ ‘ In  this  mansion  of  distress,  though  secluded  from 
lis  friends,  though  denied  aU  amusements,  and  even  the  conveniences 
ff  hfe  teased  eWy  hour  by  the  impertinences  of  the  wretches  who 
were  employed  to  guard  him,  he  stiU  retained  his  good-humor,  laughed 
It  irtheir  Lie  sp!te,  and  carried  the  jest  so  far  as  to  be  revenged  by 
writing  the  life  of  his  jailer.  ” ^ 

(d  1 It  should  be  increased  at  convenient  seasons. 

reaLr  wiU  understand  by  this,  that  I mean,  he  should  improve 
bis  Lations  to  recover  from  the  fatigue  of  the  past,  and  gather 
length  and  health  for  the  future.  At  a very  trifimg  expense,  two 


188 


EXERCISE. 


[CH.  Yii 


young  men  can  set  off  on  foot,  and,  while  they  are  at  entire  leisure 
can  perform  a long  journey,  see  a great  variety  of  new  objects  an( 
curiosities,  become  acquainted  with  a variety  of  character,  have  thei 
spirits  raised,  the  tone  of  the  whole  system  regulated,  and  all  this  during 
each  vacation.  I would  urge  this,  because  it  is  naturally  impossible  fo 
a student  to  live  long,  without  some  such  course.  All  professional  mei 
Tmust  have  the  relaxation  of  traveling.  Lawyers  have  more  or  less  o 
^it,  in  attending  courts.  Physicians  are  constantly  moving ; and  clergy 
|men  .must  take  a journey  almost  every  season,  or  they  sink  into  th< 
grave.  I have  heard,  now  and  then,  a severe  and  captious  remark  oi 
'this  point.  Must  professional  men,  and  especially  clergymen,  ever^ 
/year  or  two,  take  this  expensive  journey?  Farmers  and  mechanics  d< 
not.  True;  but  they  would  be  compelled  to  do  it,  if  they  used  theii 
minds,  and  that  to  the  necessary  neglect  of  the  body.  But  did  noi 
Paul  preach  continually,  labor  vastly  more  than  we  do,  and  yet  Ym 
to  old  age,  without  relaxation?  I answer,  no.  Far  from  it.  In  th( 
first  place,  he  traveled  almost  the  whole  of  the  time  while  preachino* 
sometimes  by  land,  and  then  again,  a passenger  on  the  water;  but 
most  of  the  time  on  some  journey.  His  circuit  lay  round  Jerusalem, 
the  diameter  being  about  a thousand  miles.  In  the  second  place- 
Providence  so  ordered  it,  that  he  was,  every  now  and  then,  taken  ofi 
from  his  labors,  and  shut  up  in  prisons.  Here  he  had  no  despondine 
feelings,  for  his  rehgion  supported  him ; here  his  friends  visited  him  ! 
and  here,  necessarily,  he  relaxed  and  rested,  long  enough  to  recoveii 
from  the  wearing  of  preaching,  and  yet  not  long  enough  to  sicken  fol 
the  want  of  exercise. 

I should  be  sorry  to  have  my  remarks  construed  as  tending  to  dis- 
countenance  any  manual  labor  by  which  the  student  or  the  professiofla] 
man  may  benefit  himself.  Many  illustrious  men  have  alternately  fol 
lowed  the  plough,  harangued  in  the  forum,  commanded  armies,  and 
bent  over  their  books.  The  patriarchs  and  the  distinguished  son  oi 
Jesse  were  shepherds,  as  were  Moses  and  some  of  the  prophets.  Paul, 
though  no  mean  scholar,  was  a tent-maker.  Cleanthes  was  a garden! 
er’s  laborer,  and  used  to  draw  water  and  spread  it  on  his  garden  in 
the  night,  that  he  might  have  time  to  study  during  the  day.  He  was 
the  successor  of  Zeno,  ^sop  and  Terence,  whose  names  will  live 
while  language  lives,  were  slaves.  Caesar,  as  every  student  knows, 
studied  in  the  carnp,  swam  rivers  holding  his  writings  out  of  the  water 
in  one  hand ; while  his  clothing  was  spun  and  woven  by  his  sisters. 
Mahomet  “made  his  own  fires,  swept  his  own  house,  milked  his  ewes, 
and  mended  his  shoes  and  pantaloons,  with  his  own  sacred  hand.” 
Charlemagne,  great  in  war,  and  greater  in  peace,  filled  his  palace  with 


EXERGISl^. 


13d 


CH.  VlIl.  J 


'learned  men,  founded  schools  and  academies  through  his  dominions, 
and  yet  was  so  industrious  that  he  could  frame  laws  even  to  the  sell- 
in  o-  of  eggs.  Of  Gustavus  Yasa  it  is  said,  “a  better  laborer  never 
struck  steel.”  It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  these  men  would  ever 
have  been  as  distinguished  for  mental  excellence,  had  they  not  en- 
dured all  these  fatigues  of  the  body.  If  you  can  feel  as  cheerful  and 
happy  in  the  garden,  the  field,  or  the  workshop,  as  you  can  while 
walking  with  a companion,  it  is  altogether  to  be  preferred  to  walking. 
But  that  regular  daily  exercise  which  is  most  pleasant  to  you  is  that 
which,  of  all  others,  will  be  the  most  beneficial. 

Permit  me  to  say,  in  a word,  that  no  student  is  doing  justice  to  him- 
self, to  his  friends,  or  to  the  world,  without  being  in  the  habit  of  a 
uniform  system  of  exercise ; and  that  for  the  following  reasons : — 

1.  Your  life  will  probably  be  prolonged  by  it. 

It  is  little  less  than  suicide  to  neglect  to  do  that,  without  the  doing 
of  which  you  are  almost  sure  to  shorten  your  days.  The  Creator  has 
not  so  formed  the  body,  that  it  can  endure  to  be  confined,  without 
exercise,  while  the  mind  burns  and  wears  upon  its  energies  and  powers 
every  moment. 

2.  You  will  enjoy  more  with  than  without  exercise.  This  remark  is 
to  be  applied  only  to  those  who  exercise  daily ; and  to  such  it  does 
apply  with  great  force.  Every  one  who  is  in  this  habit  will  bear  ample 
and  most  decided  testimony  to  this  point. 

3.  You  add  to  the  enjoyment  of  others. 

A cheerful  companion  'is  a treasure ; and  all  will  gather  around  you 
as  such,  if  you  are  faithful  to  yourself;  for  exercise  will  make  you 
cheerful,  and  cheerfulness  will  make  friends. 

4.  Your  mind  will  be  strengthened  by  exercise. 

Were  you  wishing  to  cultivate  a morbid,  sickly  taste,  which  will, 
now  and  then,  breathe  out  some  beautiful  poetical  image,  or  thought, 
like  the  spirit  of  some  most  refined  essence,  too  delicate  to  be  handled 
or  used  in  this  matter-of  fact  world,  and  too  ethereal  to  be  enjoyed, 
except  by  those  of  like  palate,  you  should  shut  yourself  up  in  your 
room  for  a few  years,  till  your  nerves  only  continue  to  act,  and.,  the 
world  floats  before  you  as  a dream.  But  if  you  wish  for  a mind  that 
can  fearlessly  dive  into  what  is  deep,  soar  to  what  is  high,  grasp  and 
hold  what  is  strong,  and  move  and  act  among  minds  conscious  of  its 
strength,  firm,  resolved,  manly  in  its  aims  and  purposes,  be  sure  to  be 
regular  in  taking  daily  exercise.  • 

“ We  consist  of  two  parts,  of  two  very  different  parts  : the  one  inert, 
passive,  utterly  incapable  of  directing  itself,  barely  ministerial  to  the 
other,  moved,  animated  by  it.  When  our  body  has  its  full  health  and 


140 


bisf. 


tcfl.  Tifl 

strength,  the  mind  is  So  far  assisted  thereby,  that  it  can  bear  a close 
pd  longer  application;  our  apprehension  is  readier;  our  imaginatioi 
isipeher;  we  can  better  enlarge  our  compass  of  thought;  we  can  ex 
amine  our  perceptions  more  strictly,  and  compare  them  more  exactly 
by  which  means  we  are  enabled  to  form  a truer  judgment  of  thino« 
to  remove  more  effectually  the  mistakes  into  which  we  have  been  lee 
by  a wrong  education,  by  passion,  inattention,  custom,  example  • te 
have  a clearer  view  of  what  is  best  for  us,  of  what  is  most  for  our  in 
terest,  and  thence  determine  ourselves  more  readily  to  its  pursuit  and 
persist  therein  with  greater  resolution  and  steadiness.” 

In  regard  to  Diet,  no  class  of  men  are  more  apt  to  go  from  one  ex- 
treme to  another  than  students.  You  will  see  one,  to5ay,  swallowino 
hot  bread  and  cold,  meats  and  vegetables,  and  what  ever  else  may 
tairly  come  m his  way.  He  takes  more  food  into  the  stomach  than  it 
can  manage,  feels  sick,  and  takes  to  a rigid  system  of  dieting,  which 
lasts  till  he  gets  well.  He  hears  of  such  a distinguished  man  who 
uses  no  meat,  and  he  inust,  from  his  success  in  study,  be  considered 
right.  Another  uses  milk  only,  and  has  become  a great  man;  and 
therefore  the  milk  diet  must  be  the  best.  He  dies  from  one  thino-  to 
another,  is  capricious  and  variable,  usually  for  two  good  reasons— first 
he  exercises  so  little,  or  so  irregularly,  that  no  kind  of  food  can  sit 
kindly  upon  his  stomach;  and,  secondly,  his  appetite  demands  more  iii 
quantity  than  a sedentary  man  should  eat.  Hence  the  student  has  no 
confidence  in  his  own  judgment  or  experience,  and  thus  frequently 
presents  a ludicrous  picture  of  inconstancy.  He  is  really  a dyspeptic 
and  has  a weight  upon  him,  which,  with  his  habits,  must  be  Heavier 
and  heavier,  till  he  cannot  support  it.  “Propter  stomachuin,  homo  est 
quod  est,  is  a maxim  which  carries  too  much  of  truth  in  its  very  face 
at  this  day.  The  calls  of  appetite  are  listened  to  till  the  appetite  be- 
comes morbid,  the  stomach  oppressed  for  weeks ; and  then  the  sihrits 
sink,  resolution  droops,  and  nothing  can  now  give  a start  to  the  clogo*ed' 
machinery  but  the  prescriptions  of  the  physician.  When  vou  Sve 
conie  regularly  under  the  influence  of  medicine,  and  must  rely  upor 
that  to  do  for  you  what  diet  and  exercise  should  have  done  loiiff  ao’o, 
you  are  far  down  the  hill.  ^ ” 


‘The  first  physicians  by  debauch  were  made; 
Excess  began,  and  sloth  sustains  the  trade. 

By  chase  our  long-lived  fathers  earned  their  food.- 
Toil  strung  the  nerves  and  purified  the  blood. 

But  we,^  their  sons,  a pamper’d  race  of  men. 

Are  dwindled  down  to  threescore  years  and' ten: 
Better  to  hunt  in  fields  for  health  unbought. 

Than  fee  the  doctor  for  a nauseous  draught; 


CM.  vnt] 


muf. 


141 


The  wise,  for  cure,  on  exercise  depend: 

God  never  made  his  work  for  man  to  mend.” 

In  this  case,  as  in  most  others,  the  cure  of  tne  student  must  consist 
in  prevention.  He  can,  by  care  and  prudence,  in  most  cases,  live 
long,  enjoy  good  health,  be  a severe  student,  and  do  a great  amount  of 
good  ; he  may  also,  by  carelessness,  in  a short  time  seal  his  own  fate, 
and  ruin  himself.  There  are  a few  hints  which  I am  wishing  to  sug- 
gest on  the  subject  of  diet,  which  may  be  expressed  briefly. 

1.  Your  diet  must  corres^pond  with  your  exercise  in  the  open  air. 

Many  shut  themselves  up  entirely,  in  unpleasant  Aveather,  during  the 
long  winter,  or  whenever  they  find  a pressure  of  business  Avithin,  or 
unpleasant  Aveather  Avithout^  and  yet  they  eat  just  as  voraciously  as  if 
they  took  exercise  every  day.  To  say  that  no  attention  is  to  be  paid 
to  diet  is  madness.  You  must  pay  attention  to  it  sooner  or  later.  If 
you  are  faithful  to  take  regular,  vigorous  exercise  every  day  in  the 
open  air,  then  you  may  eat,  and  pay  less  attention  to  quantity  and 
quality.  But  if  you  take  but  little  exercise,  you  may  be  sure  that  you 
are  to  be  a severe  sufferer  if  you  do  not  take  food  in  the  same  propor- 
tion. I do  not  ask  you  to  diet.,  i.  e. , to  be  as  difficult,  and  as  changea- 
ble, and  as  Avhimsical  as  possible,  as  if  the  great  point  Avere  to  see  how 
much  you  can  torment  yourself  and  others;  but  I do  ask  you  to  be- 
ware as  to  the  quantity  of  food  Avhich  you  hurry  into  the  stomach  three 
times  each  day,  Avithout  giving  it  any  rest.  It  is  the  quantity,  rather 
than  the  kinds  of  food,  AA^hich  destroys  students:  it  is  certainly  true, 
that  the  more  simple  the  food,  the  better.  If  you  are  unusually  hurried 
this  Aveek;  if  it  storms  to-day,  so  that,  in  these  periods,  you  cannot  go 
out,  and  take  exercise— let  your  diet  be  very  sparing,  though  the 
temptation  to  do  otherwise  aauII  be  very  strong.  When,  by  any  means, 
you  have  been  injured  by  your  food  have  overstepped  the  proper 
limits  as  to  eating,  I have  found,  in  such  cases,  that  the  most  perfect 
Avay  to  recoA^er  is  to  abstain  entirely  from  food  for  three  or  six  meals. 
By  this  time,  the  stomach  will  be  free,  and  the  system  restored.  I 
took  the  hint  from  seeing  an  idiot  who  sometimes  had  turns  of  being 
unAvell:  at  such  times,  he  abstained  entirely  from  food  for  about  three 
days,  in  Avhich  time  nature  recovered  herself,  and  he  Avas  Avell.  This 
will  frequently,  and  perhaps  generally,  ansAver  instead  of  medicine, 
and  is  every  Avay  more  pleasant.  The  most  distinguished  physicians 
have  eA^er  recommended  this  course.  It  is  a part  of  the  Mahometan 
and  pagan  systems  of  religion,  that  the  body  should  be  recruited  by 
frequent  fastings.  “Beta  bull-dog  be  fed  in  his  infancy  upon  pap, 
ISTaples’  biscuit,  and  boiled  chicken;  let  him  be  Avrapped  in  flannel  at 
night,  sleep  on  a good  feather-bed,  and  ride  out  in  a coach  for  an  air^ 


142 


bmT. 


[CH.  Vltf. 


ing,  and  if  his  posterity  do  not  become  short-limbed,  puny,  and  vale- 
tudinarian, it  will  be  a wonder.  If  there  is  any  one  thing  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  celebrated  Mathers  which  tends  to  account  for  their  lono- 
lives,  notwithstanding  their  astonishing  labors  as  students,  it  is  their 
frequent  and  stated  days  of  fasting.  A man  of  property,  who  had  for 
years  been  abusing  his  stomach,  at  last  found  his  health  on  a rapid  de- 
cline. A'ature  could  endure  it  no  longer.  He  went  to  consult  the 
celebrated  Dr.  Spring,  of  Watertown,  Massachusetts.  He  stated  the 
symptoms  of  his  case  so  clearly,  that  the  learned  physician  could  not 
mistake  the  nature  of- the  disease.  “I  can  cure  you,  sir,”  said  he,  “if 
you  will  follow  my  advice.”  The  patient  promised  most  implicitly  to 
do  so.  “Is^ow,”  says  the  doctor,  “3^011  must  steal  a horse.”  “What! 
steal  a horse?”  “Yes— you  must  steal  a horse.  You  will  then  be 
arrested,  convicted,  and  placed  in  a situation  where  your  diet  and 
regimen  will  be  such,  that  in  a short  time  your  health  will  be  perfectly 
restored.” 

2.  Be  regular  in  your  diet. 

Nature  loves  regularity.  She  will  permit  you  to  dine  at  any  hour 
you  please,  and  will  conform  to  your  wishes  in  almost  everything,  if 
you  will  only  allow  her  to  depend  upon  regularity.  Some  will  tamper 
with  themselves,  and  cultivate  a mprbid  appetite,  by  eating  somethino-^ 
if  it  be  nothing  of  more  worth  than  a handful  of  hot  peppermints,  be- 
tween almost  every  meal.  And  then,  at  night,  among  the  last  things 
they  do,  they  eat  something  before  retiring  to  rest.  That  weariness  and 
faintness  which  are  the  calls  of  nature  for  rest  and  sleep,  are  met  by  a 
new  supply  of  food.  One  of  the  best  remarks  that  Jefferson  ever  made, 
was,  “that  nobody  ever  repented  having  eaten  too  little.”  This  is 
true  to  the  letter,  in  regard  to  eating  between  meals.  I do  not  wish 
to  go  into  particulars ; but  the  habit  of  closing  the  day  or  evening  by 
loading  the  stomach  with  fruit  or  food,  will,  sooner  or  later,  visit  you 
with  fearful  retribution. 

3.  Be  simple  in  your  diet. 

In  no  profession  of  life  are  men  likely  to  accomplish  any  great  and 
good  enterprise  who  are  in  any  measure  slaves  to  their  palates.  Bona- 
parte was  temperate  and  simple  to  notoriety  during  his  wonderful 
career  as  a general;  and  Washington,  during  all  his  campaigns,  was 
remarkable  for  the  simplicity  of  his  diet.  Manv  times  he  was  known 
to  sit  on  his  horse  all  day,  making  his  dinner  of  bread  and  a slice  of 
pork.  The  habits  of  the  epicure  are  the  last  which  the  student  should 
cherish.  No  one  thing  should  be  considered  as  essential  to  your  com- 
fort. A distinguished  lawyer  used  to  congratulate  himself  that  the 
only  luxury  in  which  he  indulged  was  good  coffee  in  the  morning:  to 


^CH.  VIII.] 


DIET. 


143 


make  it  to  his  taste,  it  amounted  to  just  half  as  much  ground  coffee  as 
he  drank  liquid.  He  shone  brightly  while  he  lived,  but,  without  any 
disease  or  sickness  upon  him,  he  sunk  into  the  grave  before  the  age  of 
forty.  He  died  worn  out,  and  seemed  an  old  man.  Without  wiiming 
to  descend  to  particular  articles  of  food,  it  should  be  a general  rule  to 
be  as  simple  as  possible  at  the  table. 

I cannot  persuade  myself  that  I need  say  a word  on  the  subject  of 
stimulating  drinks;  for  I cannot  beheve  that  any  one,  who  has  self- 
respect  enough  to  read  a book  designed  for  his  improvement,  will  need 
a single  caution  on  this  point.  Many  classes  of  men  are  more  fre- 
quently in  the  way  of  temptation  from  this  quarter,  than  the  student  ; 
but  no  class  has  half  the  temptation  from  within.  There  is  a depres- 
sion, and  a sinking  of  the  animal  spirits,  at  times,  which  makes  the 
desire  for  artificial  stimulants  almost  irrepressible.  And  when  the  ex- 
periment has  been  once  made,  and  the  appetite  once  indulged,  you  are, 
probably,  too  completely  in  the  hands  of  your  enemy  to  be  saved.  Let 
it  alone : never  suffer  a bottle,  a decanter,  a wine-glass,  to  come  into 
your  room,  or  to  touch  your  lips.  You  could  be  pointed  to  men  who, 
in  their  several  professions  were  brilliant  while  they  hved,  and  whose 
tongues  and  pens  Avere  made  eloquent  by  artificial  sthnulants.  Their 
suns,  almost  Avithout  exception,  set  in  clouds,  and  Avhat  they  Avrote 
Avill  lie  unread,  at  least,  till  the  memory  of  the  authors  have  passed 
away.  But  if  you  could  take  the  catalogue  of  our  colleges,  and  hear 
the  history  of  those  Avho,  by  the  star,  are  marked  as  having  gone  to 
the  grave,  you  Avould  be  astonished  at  the  number  Avho  Avere  destroyed 
by  this  fatal  indulgence.  The  student  Avho,  even  occasionally  uses 
strong  drinks,  may  be  marked  as  one  who  aaMI  soon  cease  to  be  in  your 
Avay  as  a rival,  and  whose  career  Avill  probably  be  marked  hereafter 
only  Avith  shame  and  degradation.  While  I feel  that  I almost  insult 
my  reader  by  cautioning  him  on  this  subject,  I must  be  permitted  to 
say  that  the  danger,  to  the  student,  is  very  great,  and  that,  OAving  to 
the  peculiar  excitability  of  his  nevres,  and  the  relaxed  state  of  his 
system,  he  probably  receives  treble  the  injury  by  stimulants,  that  any 
other  man  does. 

I shall  close  this  chapter  Avith  some  remarks  upon  Economy. 

The  great  mass  of  our  students  are  anydbing  but  Avealthy.  There 
are  many  Avho,  to  render  their  standing  in  life  respectable,  go  tlirough 
college,  Avhen  they  have  no  expectation  of  relying  upon  themselves  for 
support.  FeAV  of  these  lay  any  claim  to  the  character  of  students. 
Tliey  rely  upon  their  Avealth  for  character  and  influence  in  life.  Among 
these  there  are  some  avIio  make  fine  scholars ; but,  though  their  number 
is  greater  than  we  should  expect,  it  is  small.  Those  who  are  to  in- 


144 


ECONOMY. 


[CH. 

herit  wealth,  as  a class,  will  never  feel  a pressure  sufficient  to  make 
them  severe  students.  And  those  who  ai’e  seeking  wealth,  will  never 
seek  it  in  the  way  of  study.  If  it  be  your  object  to  become  rich,  you  ' 
can  find  a thousand  paths  which  will  lead  you  to  wealth,  before  that 
of  study.  hTo  class  of  men  in  the  world,  considering  the  amount  of  ■ 
capital  expended  in  obtaining  an  education,  and  the  amount  of  labor  ’ 
in  their  professions,  are  so  poorly  paid  as  professional  men.  It  has  ^ 
been  said,  with  emphasis  and  truth,  “that  merely  to  obtain  wealth,  a 
man  would  be  more  likely  to  succeed,  to  begin  Avith  a wood-saw  and  ; 
axe,  than  with  an  education  which  cost  him  ten  years  of  hard  study,  - 
and  all  the  money  he  could  borrow.”  A professional  man  in  this  V 
country,  by  untiring  industry  and  economy,  may  have  a competency,  ^ 
in  most  cases;  but  it  Avill  require  the  union  of  those  two  qualities  to  ’ 
give  it.  You  Avill  see  the  necessity,  then,  of  looking  at  the  subject  > 
now,  and  of  beginning  life  with  those  habits  and  views  which  Avill  be  i 
safe.  It  is  cerbiinly  true,  that  without  economy  no  student  will  ever  • 
be  rich;  and,  perhaps,  it  is  equally  true,  that  with  it  very  feAV  will  ever  I 
be  poor  through  life.  ^ 

Set  it  doAvn  as  an  axiom,  that  poverty  will  do  you  no  injury  as  a ; 
student.  While  multitudes  have  been  ruined  by  wealth,  few  have  ever 
been,  by  being  poor;  for  there  is  no  pressure  so  direct,  so  constant,  _ 
and  so  powerful,  as  that  of  poverty.  Pythagoras  long  ago  remarked, 
“that  ability  and  necessity  dwell  near  each  other:”  they  usually  in- 
habit the  same  building.  The  strong,  gigantic  character  of  Johnson 
Avas  probably  owing,  in  a very  great  meagre,  to  his  poverty.  He  used 
to  say,  that  Kichard  SaA-age  and  himself  often  Avalked  till  four  in  the 
morning — in  the  course  of  their  conA^rsation,  reforming  the  Avorld,  de- 
throning princes,  giving  laws,  etc., — till,  fatigued  Avith  their  legislative 
office,  they  began  to  Avant  refreshment,  but  could  not  muster  more 
than  fourpence-halfpenny  betAveen  them.  If,  in  a country  where  so 
much  is  thought  to  depend  on  hereditary  rank  and  affluence,  poverty 
only  presses  a man  into  greatness,  it  is  no  less  true,  certainly,  that  in 
this  country  it  cannot  injure  you.  Savage  composed  his  most  admired 
productions  Avhile  Avalking  over  the  cornfields ; and  then,  stepping  into 
the  shops  and  begging  a pen,  he  wrote  on  scraps  of  paper  picked  up  in 
the  street  Avhat  he  had  composed  during  his  rambles.  And  that  burn- 
ing, indescribable  passion  for  knoAvledge  and  high  attainments  Avhich 
the  student  ought  to  have,  can  no  more  be  quenched  by  his  poverty, 
than  the  deep  riA^er  Avill  cease  to  roll  on  Avith  its  burden  of  Avaters,  be^ 
cause  you  cut  off  a mountain  rill.  Indeed,  the  circumstance  of  his 
being  poor,  is  decidedly  faAwable  to  the  hope  that  he  Avill  stand  high 
as  a student ; for  who  does  not  love  to  rise  above  obstacles  Avhich,  being 


ECONOMY. 


145 


VIII.] 


nc  reproach  to  us  by  lying  in  our  path,  and  which,  being  seen  by  all, 
only  show  the  strength  of  character  and  of  purpose  which  can  carry 
us  over  them?  The  discipline  which  poverty  adds  to  the  character  is 
often  more  severe  than  language  can  describe ; but  the  spirit  that  can 
bow  to  its  yoke,  and,  under  it,  carry  forward  all  the  burdens  connected 
with  study,  is  the  spirit  to  be  hereafter  felt  and  revered  by  others. 
The  temptations  to  dissipation,  to  dress,  and  extravagance,  to  take 
the  mind  away  from  his  books,  are  greatly  lessened  by  his  being  poor. 
Look  at  the  man  on  the  stage  of  life,  whose  voice,  whose  pen,  whose 
influence  are  felt  the  widest,  and  who  are  the  ornaments  of  our  country. 
Were  many  of  them  cradled  in  affluence?  Did  they  acquire  their 
strength  on  beds  of  roses?  Or  are  they  those  who  have  made  them- 
selves by  their  own  efforts,  little  aided  by  circumstances  that  may  be 
denominated  fortuitous?  The  most  indigent  student  in  the  land  need 
not  fear  the  results  of  such  an  investigation.  • i i i 

Never  be  ashamed  to  have  it  known  that  you  are  poor,  provided  that 
your  poverty  is  owing  to  no  mismanagement  of  yours.  The  remark, 
that  “it  is  the  eyes  of  other  people  which  cost  us  so  much,”  is  so  true 
that,  to  attract  those  eyes,  some  will  be  extravagant,  and  others  will 
be  odd,  in  their  appearance.  ‘ ‘ A celebrated  old  general  used  to  dress 
in  a fantastic  manner,  by  w^ay  of  making  himself  better  known.  It  is 
true  people  would  say,  ‘Who  is  that  old  fool?’  but  it  is  also  true,  that 

the  answer  was,  ‘That  is  the  famous  General , who  took  such  a 

place.’”  No  one  ever  stands  high  in  the  estimation  of  others,  who 
goes  beyond  his  means  to  adorn  his  person  ; and  while  the  student 
should,  in  all  respects,  study  to  be  a gentleman  in  his  deportment,  it 
is  no  more  desirable  for  him  to  rely  upon  dress  for  character,  than  it 
is  for  a lady  to  adorn  her  face  with  chalk,  which  the  rain  wnll  wash 
off,  or  with  paints,  which  the  sun  will  melt  away. 

As  far  as  possible,  Iteejp  out  of^  debt.  Nothing,  short  of  loss  of  char- 
acter, ever  w’^eighs  doAvn  the  spirits  of  a student,  like  a load  of  accumu- 
lating debts.  To  say  nothing  about  independent  feeling,  which  he  can 
no  more  enjoy,  than  an  “empty  bag  can  stand  upright,”  there  is  an 
ao’ony  about  it  of  which  the  stirring,  active,  bargain-making  man  can- 
not conceive.  It  haunts  the  soul  day  and  night ; and  the  man  who  can 
prosper  in  his  studies,  while  sinking  in  debt,  must  have  feelings  peculiar 
to  himself,  and  be  made  of  “sterner  stuff”  than  most  men.  All  the 
■ efforts  of  denying  yourself  the  luxuries,  and  even  the  comforts  of  hfe, 
are  light,  in  comparison  with  the  burden  of  owdng. 

But  perhaps  you  will  say,  that  your  circumstances  are  such,  that  you 
must  rehnquish  your  studies,  at  once  and  forever,  or  be  in  debt.  What 
shall  you  do  in  such  a case?  I reply  that,  if  you  must  meet  an  evil, 
10 


146 


ECONOMY, 


[CH.  VIJL 


and  cany  a burden  on  your  back  for  years,  make  every  effort  to  have 
it  as  bght  as  possible  lou  must  be  in  debt,  we  will  suppose.  Try, 
then  and  see  how  little  you  can  be  in  debt,  and  possibly  get  along! 
In  this  case,  in  order  to  have  the  mind  as  free  as  you  can,  borrow  your 

frebt«Tioon°"V’^r®’  no  small 

ebts  upon  \\  Inch  you  think,  and  over  which  you  ache,  every  time  you 

'w  alk  out.  Keep  a small  book,  in  which  you  register  all  the  items  of 
your  expense,  and  frequently  look  it  over,^uid  sfe  if  there  be  “em 
registered  which  you  might  have  saved,  by  the  most  rigid  economy. 

It  the  taste  of  a young  man  improves  as  it  should  during  the  progress 
of  study , he  will  be  in  danger,  when  he  makes  purchases,  of  consulting 
his  taste  and  fancy,  rather  than  his  judgment  or  his  means.  It  is 
natural,  if  the  taste  be  cultivated,  to  be  unsatisfied  ^vith  purchases 
wbicb  do  not  bear  marks  of  having  been  jwepared  for  a refined  taste, 
and  such  preparations  are  always  to  be  paid  for  dearly.  You  must  resist 
this  appetite,  and  consult  your  judgment,  rather  than  your  taste,  or  be 
very  sparing  m your  purchases.  I have  known  a poor  student  pay  thirty 
or  thirty-five  dollars  for  a flute,  when  one  seventh  of  the  suin  would 
have  procured  one  of  a tone  every  way  as  good ; and  the  instrument, 
inasmuch  as  he  never  made  anything  more  than  an  ordinary  proficient 
upon  it,  every  way  as  valuable  to  him.  Pay  as  little  to  gratify  your 
ta^e  as  you  please,  at  present.  You  can  at  any  future  time  do  that 
I3uv  nothing  because  it  is  offered  cheap.  The  question  should  be’ 
not,  Js  this  article  worth,  and  more  than  worth  its  price?  but  Can  I 
not  possibly  get  along  without  it?  For  this  purpose,  keep  away  from 
p aces  where  cheap  tilings  are  to  be  sold,  such  as  auction-rooms,  and 
the  like.  He  who  buys  what  he  does,  not  need,  will  often  need  what 
^ cannot  buy.  JNor  can  you  expect  to  purchase  anything  like  all 
that  you  want— all  that  would  add  to  your  comfort.  We  must  not 
only  deny  ourselves  many  things  which  would  be  pleasant,  but  also 
many  which,  at  first  view,  seem  essential.  Beware  of  buying  books. 

I he  temptation  is  great  here.  But  there  are  obvious  reasons  why  vou 
should  resist  it.  One  is,  that  few  books  will  be  sufficiently  valuable  to 
you  to  be  worth  the  interest  of  your  money.  Another  is,  that  every 
year  brings  books  more  and  more  within  your  reach,  as  every  edition 
of  a valuable  work  is  likely  to  be  cheaper  than  the  preceding.  You 
may  think  you  get  this  and  that  volume  cheap:  but,  ten  years  hence, 
you  will  not  think  so.  I could  mention  a gentleman  who  entered  his 
profusion  under  an  embarrassment  of  four  hundred  dollars,  for  books 
Put  before  iie  could  possibly  pay  the  debt,  the  interest  which  he  paid 
on  the  money  would  have  purchased  what  would  have  been  more  valu- 
able to  him.  Excepting  your  text-books,  purchase  but  few  books— 


cit.  vm.] 


ECONOMY. 


iNt 

perhaps  some  three  or  four  volumes  a year ; the  Institution  at  which 
you  study  will  furnish  you  with  books  during  term-time,  and  your  own 
purchases  will  fill  up  the  vacations.  It  is  amusing,  in  reading  the  cor- 
respondence of  the  amiable  Cowper,  to  see  him  borrowing  most  of  the 
books  which  he  read,  because  his  finances  would  not  allow  him  to  pur- 
chase, and  debts  he  could  not  endure. 

The  habits  of  economy  which  you  now  form  are  for  life ; and  upon 
these  habits  are  to  depend  the  questions,  whether  your  journey  through 
life  be  one  of  independence  and  comfort,  or  of  mortification  and  in- 
quietude. If  jmu  will  read  over  the  curious  document  embracing  the 
minute  expenses  of  Washington,  during  the  whole  of  the  revolutionary 
war,  and  which  he  kept  with  his  own  hand,  you  will  be  struck  with 
his  economical  habits,  and  feel  that  such  traits  properly  go  into  a great 
character.  That  is  a mistaken  notion  which  supposes  that  a want  of 
economy  is  a mark  of  genius,  and  that  profusion,  extravagance,  and 
debts,  are  inseparable  from  a man  who  is  to  be  distinguished  for  mental 
attainments,  frothing  is  beneath  you,  which  will  keep  you  from 
anxiety,  and  permit  the  mind  to  pursue  the  paths  of  knowledge  unclog- 
ged and  unfettered.  While  it  should  be  impressed  on  the  student, 
that  ‘ ‘ wealth  cannot  confer  greatness,  because  nothing  can  make  that 
great  which  the  decrees  of  nature  have  ordained  to  be  little ; that  the 
bramble  may  be  placed  in  a hot- bed,  but  can  never  become  an  oak;” 
it  should,  at  the  same  time,  be  equally  im])ressed  upon  him,  that  he 
must  feel  prodigal  of  his  mental  powers  Avho  can  strike  for  a high 
character,  knoAving  that  much  of  the  strength  of  these  poAvers  is  to  be 
expended  in  the  embarrassments  of  debts. 

As  to  being  useful,  there  ever  has  been,  and  ever  Avill  be,  so  much 
of  disgrace  connected  with  being  in  debt,  that  you  cannot  be  as  useful 
Avhile  you  owe.  If  you  must  be  in  debt,  strive  to  make  the  bondage 
as  light  as  possible,  and  seek  for  freedom  the  first  hour  tliat  you  can. 

Finally,  one  of  the  very  best  safeguards  against  the  least  waste  of 
property  is  to  consider  yourself  accountable  to  God  for  all  that  you 
ha^fe,  that  you  must  ansAver  to  him  for  its  use  or  abuse ; and  especially 
if  you  haA^e  not  of  your  oAvn,  but  live  by  borroAving  of  others,  Avill  he 
hold  you  most  strictly  accountable  for  all  that  you  expend.  While 
you  have  no  items  on  your  book  at  Avhich  j^ou  cannot  look  Avith  pleas- 
ure, be  careful,  also,  to  have  your  conscience,  on  this  subject,  enlight- 
ened by  a regard  to  the  eye  of  your  God. 


148 


FIXED  PBIXCIPLES. 


[CH.  li 


IX. 

DISCIPLmE  OF  THE  HEAKT. 

My  reader  will  have  noticed,  that  I have  said  little  or  nothing  thus 
far  on  the  high  subject  of  the  moral  feelings.  The  omission  was  de-: 
signed:  not  that  I deem  this  subject  of  small  importance  to  the  student, : 
but  because  I wished  to  present  each  topic  by  itself,  hoping  thereby 
that  the  light  which  fell  upon  each  would  be  stronger,  and  that  thus 
each  would  make  a deep  and  a distinct  impression.  The  two  chapters, 
which  now  remain  of  this  little  book  are,  in  my  view,  by  far  the  most 
important  of  any;  and  I cannot  but  hope  that  they  will  receive  the 
attention  of  the  reader  in  proportion  as  they  are  important. 

One  of  the  first  steps  to  be  taken,  if  you  would  have  a character  that 
will  stand  by  you  in  prosperity  and  adversity,  in  life  and  in  death,  is  to 
fortify  your  mind  with  fixed  principles. 

There  is  no  period  in  life  in  which  the  heart  is  so  much  inclined  to 
skepticism  and  infidelity  as  in  youth.  Hot  that  young  men  are  infidels, 
but  the  mind  is  tossed  from  doubt  to  doubt  like  a light  boat  leaping 
from  wave  to  wave.  There  is  no  positive  settling  down  into  deism  or 
infidelity;  but  the  heart  is  so  full  of  doubting,  that  the  mind  has  uo 
position,  in  morals  or  religion,  fortified.  If  the  restraints  of  education 
are  so  far  thrown  off  as  to  allow  you  to  indulge  in  sin  which  is  in  any 
way  disgraceful  if  Imown,  you  will  then  easily  become  an  infidel. 
“The  nurse  of  infidelity  is  sensuality.  Youth  are  sensual.  The  Bible 
stands  in  their  way.  It  prohibits  the  indulgence  of  ‘the  lust  of  the 
fiesh,  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  jiride  of  life.  ’ But  the  young  mind 
loves  these  things,  and  therefore  it  hates  the  Bible,  which  prohibits 
them.  It  is  prepared  to  say,  ‘If  any  man  will  bring  me  arguments 
against  the  Bible,  I Avill  thank  him;  if  not,  I will  invent  them?’  I 
never  gathered  from  infidel  writers,  when  an  avowed  infidel  myself, 
any  solid  difficulties,  which  were  not  brought  to  my  mind  by  a very 
young  child  of  my  own.  ‘Why  was  sin  permitted?— What  an  insig- 
nificant world  is  this  to  be  redeemed  by  the  incarnation  and  death  of 
the  Son  of  God! — Who  can  believe  that  so  few  will  be  saved?’  Ob- 
jections of  this  kind,  in  the  mind  of  reasoning  young  persons,  prove  to 
me  that  they  are  the  growth  of  fallen  nature.  As  to  infidel  arguments, 
there  is.no  weight  in  them.  They  are  jejune  and  refuted.  Infidels  are 
not  themselves  convinced  by  them.  What  sort  of  men  are  infidels? 


ME  CATT8ES  OF  INFIDELlTf. 


149 


\ 

eii.  ix.] 


They  are  loose,  fierce,  overbearing  men.  There  is  nothing  in  them  hke 
sober  and  serious  inquiry.  They  are  the  wildest  fanatics  on  earth. 
JSTor  have  they  agreed  among  themselves  on  any  scheme  of  truth  and 
felicity.  Look  at  the  need  and  necessities  of  man.  ‘ Every  pang  of 
grief  tells  a man  that  he  needs  a helper ; but  infidelity  provides  none. 
And  what  can  its  schemes  do  for  you  in  death?’  Examine  your  con- 
science. Why  is  it  that  you  listen  to  infidelity  ? Is  not  infidelity  a 
low,  carnal,  wicked  game  ? Is  it  not  the  very  picture  of  the  prodigal — 
‘Father,  give  me  the  portion  of  goods  which  faUeth  to  me?’  IFAy, 
WHY  will  a man  be  an  infidel?  Draw  out  the  map  of  the  road  of  in- 
fidelity. It  wiU  lead  you  to  such  stages,  at  length,  as  you  could  never 
suspect.  ’ ’ 

This  is  the  testimony  of  one  who  had  faithfully  traveled  the  road  of 
infidelity;  a man  whose  testimony  would  have  run  through  the  world, 
had  he  continued  a low,  groveling,  sensual  infidel;  but  whose  testi- 
mony has  never  been  noticed  by  infidels,  since  he  became  a better  man, 
and  an  eminent  Christian.  I will  here  put  it  to  my  reader  to  say, 
whether  he  can  recollect,  in  all  he  has  known  of  men,  from  history  or 
observation,  a great,  discriminating  and  efficient  mind — a mind  that 
has  blessed  the  world  in  any  degree — which  was  thoroughly  imbued 
with  infidel  principles?  Take  the  writings  of  such  a mind,  and  you 
will  be  astonished  at  the  vulgarity,  sophistry,  puerility,  and  weakness, 
wliich  are  continually  marking  its  progress.  Suppose  him  a pohtician. 
In  the  unpublished  language  of  a young  friend  of  mine, “it  may  be  said 
that  his  religion  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  political  opinions.  But  this 
is  not  clear : it  is  justly  remarked  by  some  writer,  I know  not  whom, 

‘ that  the  mind  which  has  been  warped  and  biased  upon  one  great  sub- 
ject, is  not  safely  trusted  upon  another.’  And  can  we  say  of  a man, 
‘It  is  true  that  the  evidences  of  the  Christian  rehgion,  which  carry 
along  wdth  them  the  soundest  judgments,  and  the  most  profound  minds, 
did  not  meet  a reception  in  his?  It  is  true  that  his  intellect  did  not 
lead  him  to  such  conclusions  on  this  subject  as  we  consider  to  be  the 
necessary  conclusions  of  a balanced  mind,  but  yet,  in  politics,  he  was 
great,  deep,  searching,  divine!’  ” Learning,  poetry,  and  literature, 
walk  hand  in  hand  under  the  light  of  the  Gospel.  They  are  destined 
to  do  so ; and  no  where  else  on  earth  can  they  now  be  found.  It  is 
absolutely  impossible  for  any  mind,  amid  all  this  light,  to  veil  itself  in 
infidelity,  and  expect  to  be  known,  revered,  or  influential  among  men. 
Were  there  no  warpings  of  the  mind,  and  no  outrages  committed  upon 
it,  when  it  was  led  to  embrace  infidelity,  still  it  asks  too  much  of  its 
fellows,  when  it  demands  admittance  to  their  communion,  and  asks 
permission  to  reach  other  minds,  when  it  pretends  to  pour  nothing  but 


150 


DECISION  tlMGED. 


[ca.  It. 


the  cold  light  of  a December  evening  upon  them.  There  is  so  little  of 
sympathy  between  the  mind  of  an  infidel  and  the  enlightened  Christian 
part  of  "the  community,  that,  if  he  hopes  to  have  any  influence  upon  -1 
men,  it  must  be  upon  those  who  have  already  made  shipwreck  of  char-  | 
acter  and  hopes,  and  who  will  hear  him  speak  or  write,  because  he  | 
holds  out  the  last,  faint  glimmering  of  hope  to  them,  ere  they  are  'f* 
thrust  off  upon  the  dark  waters,  upon  which  nothing  else  sheds  a ray 
of  light.  J 

Should  you  be  among  those  who  have  no  fixed  principles  in  morals  ” 
and  religion,  for  your  own  peace  and  usefulness,  I beg  you  to  settle  I 
this  subject  at  once  and  forever.  Has  God  ever  spoken  to  man?  If  5 
so,  when  and  how?  These  are  the  most  important  questions  ever  | 
asked,  ^.nd  they  should  be  answered  and  settled,  so  that  the  mind  ^ 
may  have  something  to  rest  upon  so  firm  that  nothing  shall  move  it. 
“We  are  mere  mites  creeping  on  the  earth,  and  oftentimes  conceited  j 
mites  too.”  We  can  easily  unsettle  things,  but  can  erect  nothing.  5 
We  can  pull  down  a church,  but  without  aid,  cannot  erect  a hovel,  j 
The  earlier  in  life  you  settle  your  principles,  the  firmer,  more  mature,  1 
more  influential,  will  your  character  be.  Search  the  Bible,  and  try  it  :« 
as  you  would  gold  in  the  furnace.  If  you  doubt  its  inspiration,  sit 
down  to  its  examination  with  candor,  and  with  an  honest  desire  to 
know  what  is  truth : let  the  examination  be  as  thorough  as  you  please, 
but,  when  once  made,  let  it  be  settled  forever.  You  will  then  have 
something  to  stand  upon.  You  will  have  an  unerring  standard  by 
which  to  regulate  your  conduct,  your  conscience,  and  your  heart.  The 
ship  that  outrides  the  storm  with  the  greatest  ease,  is  the  one  which  i 
has  her  anchors  out,  her  cables  stretched,  and  her  sails  furled,  before  ; 
the  strength  of  the  storm  has  reached  her;  and  the  navigator,  who  ; 
must  stand  at  the  helm  through  the  long  dark  night,  does  not  wait  till 
that  night  comes,  ere  he  sees  that  his  compass  is  boxed  and  properly 
hung.  He  who  has  his  religious  principles  early  fixed,  has  nothing  to  , 
do  but  at  once,  and  continually,  to  act  upon  them — to  carry  them  out 
in  practice.  He  has  not  the  delays  and  the  vexations  of  distrust  and  • 
doubt  every  little  while,  when  he ' stops  to  examine  and  settle  a prin- 
ciple. Every  reader  will  be  convinced  of  this,  who  will  read  over  the 
seventy  resolutions  of  President  Edwards,  all  of  which  were  formed 
before  he  was  twenty  years  old,  and  the  most  important  of  them  before 
he  was  nineteen.  No  mind  could  form,  and  act  upon,  such  principles 
from  early  life,  without  becoming  great  and  efficient.  I cannot  refrain 
from  selecting  a few  of  these  as  a specimen. 

“1.  Resolved,  that  I will  do  whatsoever  I think  to  be  most  to  the 
glory  of  God,  and  my  own  good,  profit,  and  pleasure,  in  the  whole  of 


CH.  IX.] 


PRESIDENT  ED  WARDS' 8 EESOL  UTI0N8. 


151 


my  duration,  without  any  consideration  of  the  time,  whether  now,  or 
never  so  many  myriads  of  ages  hence.  Kesolved,  to  do  whatever  I think 
to  be  my  duty^  and  most  for  the  good  and  advantage  of  mankind  in 
general.  Kesolved,  so  to  do,  whatever  difficulties  I meet  with,  how 
many  soever,  and  how  great  soever.” 

“4.  Resolved,  never  to  do  any  manner  of  thing,  whether  in  soul  or 
body,  less  or  more,  but  what  tends  to  the  glory  of  God,  nor  nor 
suffer  it,  if  I can  possibly  avoid  it. 

‘'5.  Kesolved,  never  to  lose  one  moment  of  time,  but  to  improve  it 
in  the  most  profitable  “way  I possibly  can. 

‘ ‘ 6.  Resolved,  to  live  with  all  my  might  while  I do  live. 

‘ ‘ 7.  Kesolved,  never  to  do  anything,  which  I should  be  afraid  to  do, 
if  it  were  the  last  hour  of  my  life.” 

“20.  Resolved,  to  maintain  the  strictest  temperance  in  eating  and 
drinking. 

“21.  Kesolved,  never  to  do  anything  which,  if  I should  see  in  an- 
other, I should  count  a just  occasion  to  despise  him  for,  or  to  think 
any  way  the  more  meanly  of  him.  ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ 34.  Resolved,  in  narrations  never  to  speak  an3dhing  but  the  pure  f 
and  simple  verity.  ” 

“46.  Kesolved,  never  to  allow  the  least  measure  of  any  fretting  or 
uneasiness  at  my  father  or  mother.  Kesolved,  to  suffer  no  effects  of 
it,  so  much  as  in  the  least  alteration  of  speech,  or  emotion  of  my  eye, 
and  to  be  especially  careful  of  it  with  respect  to  any  of  our  family.  ’ ’ 

The  whole  of  these  seventy  resolutions  are  every  way  worthy  the 
attention  and  the  imitation  of  every  young  man.  And  while  this  ex- 
ample is  before  you,  allow  me  to  present  a few  brief  resolutions  which 
were  formed  by  a young  man  before  he  entered  college,  and  which 
formed  a character  known  and  revered  widely,  and  whose  death  was 
sincerely  lamented. 

“For  the  future  direction  of  my  life  I resolve, 

“1.  That  I will  make  religion  my  chief  concernment. 

‘ ‘ 2.  That  I will  never  be  afraid  or  ashamed  to  speak  in  defence  of 
rehgion. 

‘ ‘ 3.  That  I will  make  it  my  daily  practice  to  read  some  part  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  that  I may  become  acquainted  with  the  will  of  God, 
and  be  quickened  and  comforted,  and  qualified  to  serve  Christ  and  pro- 
mote the  interests  of  his  kingdom  in  the  world. 

“4.  That  I will  every  day  reflect  upon  death  and  eternity. 

“5.  That  I will  daily  pray  to  God  in  secret. 

“6.  That,  upon  all  proper  occasions,  I will  reprove  vice,  and  dis- 
countenance it,  and,  to  my  utmost,  encourage  virtue  and  religion. 


15S 


A COMMON  PBEJUDICE, 


[CH.  IX. 


'‘7.  That  I will  dispute  only  for  light,  or  to  communicate  it. 

‘ ‘ 8.  That  T will  receive  light  wherever  and  however  offered.  | 

“9.  That  I will  give  up  no  principle  before  I am  convinced  of  its  5 
absurdity  or  bad  consequences.  J 

“10.  That  I will  never  be  ashamed  to  confess  a fault  to  an  equal  or  1 
to  an  inferior.  : 

“11.  That  I will  make  it  a rule  to  do  no  action,  at  any  time  or  place,  j. 
of  which  action  I should  not  be  willing  to  be  a witness  against  myself  ^ 
hereafter.  ’ ’ j 

It  is  frequently  the  case  that  young  men  have  an  idea  that  there  is  i 
something  in  the  cultivation  of  the  heart,  and  in  the  restraints  of  re-  i 
ligion,  which  degrades  or  cramps  the  soul ; that  a mind  which  is  nat-  \ 
urally  noble  and  lofty,  will  become  groveling  and  contracted  by  sub- 
mitting  to  moral  restraints.  This  is  a mere  prejudice;  and  it  does  little  | 
good  to  deny  a prejudice.  But  go  into  that  library,  and  examine  the  ' 
shelves,  and  see  who  are  those  who  have  penned  what  will  be  immortal,  ' 
and  influence  other  minds  as  long  as  earth  shall  endure.  In  almost  1 
every  instance,  the  work  which  will  hold  its  place  the  longest,  was  ' 
dictated  by  a Christian  heart.  The  loftiest  minds,  the  most  cultivated 
intellects,  and  the  most  solid  judgments,  have  bowed  at  the  altar  of 
God,  and  have  been  quickened  and  ennobled  by  the  waters  which  flow 
from  his  mount;  and  if  we  go  up  from  man  to  those  higher  orders  of 
beings  who  compose  “the  presence”  of  the  Eternal,  we  shall  find  them, 
after  having  shouted  for  joy  over  the  creation  of  this  world,  when  the 
morning  stars  sang  together;  after  having  watched  the  providences  of 
God,  and  seen  empires  rise  and  fall;  after  having  hung  around  the 
good  in  all  their  wanderings  on  earth,  still  studying  the  Gospel,  to 
have  their  views  enlarged,  their  conceptions  of  the  Infinite  Wisdom 
expanded,  and  still  desiring  to  look  into  these  things.  May  not  the 
sublime  idea  of  the  modesty  of  these  “angelic  students”  rebuke  the 
ignorance,  the  darkness,  and  consummate  pride,  of  those  who  feel  that 
their  greatness  would  be  diminished  by  bowing  to  the  Gospel  of  God  ? 
The  angels  diligently  look  into  the  mystery  of  the  Gospel;  and  they 
are  the  companions  and  fellow-students  of  all  who  thus  study  it. 

By  disciplining  the  heart,  I mean,  bringing  it  into  subjection  to  the 
'will  of  God,  so  that  you  can  best  honor  him,  and  do  most  for  the' \TeU-'^ 

■ being  of  men.  I shall  suggest  some  means  by  which  the  lieart  may  be 
disciplined  and  the  feelings  cultivated. 

1.  Let  it  he  your  immediate  and  constant  aim  to  malte  every  event 
subservient  to  cultivating  the  lieart. 

We  are  in  danger  of  acknowledging  the  importance  of  this  subject, 
but  at  the  same  time  of  putting  it  off  to  a convenient  season.  You 


OH.  IX.] 


FIRST  smoFSTIOF. 


153 


suppose  your  present  circumstances  are  not  favorable.  There  are  diffi- 
culties now,  but  you  are  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  things  will 
be  dilferent-  Your  studies  will  not  hurry  you  so  much:  they  will  be- 
come much  easier;  and  you  will  have  conveniences  which  you  have  not 
at  the  present  time.  But  when  you  shall  go  to  another  place,  or  com- 
mence a new  study,  or  enter  upon  a more  pleasant  season  of  the  year, 
or  have  a new  companion  in  your  room,  then  you  can  begin  to  take 
care  of  your  heart,  and  have  intercourse  with  God.  But  you  greatly 
misjudge.  Everything,  every  circumstance  in  our  condition,  is  de- 
signed by  Infinite  Wisdom  as  a part  of  our  moral  discipline;  and  He 
who  watches  ‘the  sparrow  when  she  alights,  and  directs  her  how  and 
where  to  find  the  grain  of  food.  He  directs  all  things  relating  to  your 
situation;  and  He  designs  to  have  everything  contribute  to  your  moral 
improvement.  There  is  not  a temptation  which  meets  you,  nor  a, 
vexation  which  harasses  you,  nor  a trouble  which  depresses  you,  but  it 
was  all  designed  for  your  good.  Do  not  put  off,  and  plead  that  the 
path  in  which  your  Heavenly  Father  is  leading  you  is  different  from  what 
you  would  have  chosen,  and  therefore  you  are  excusable  for  not  doing 
ills  will.  Ho  principle  of  action  is  of  any  worth,  unless  it  leads  you 
continually  to  take  care  of  the  heart.  I have  spoken  already  of  the 
difficulty  in  subduing  the  mind,  so  as  to  make  study  easy.  You  will 
find  the  heart  no  more  readily  subdued.  Every  indulgence  of  vice, 
every  neglect  of  duty,  strengthens  the  habits  and  propensities  to  do 
wrong,  and  to  go  astray. 

Should  the  hand  of  Providence  strike  down  your  best  earthly  friend, 
you  would  feel  that  you  were  called  upon  to  make  the  event  contribute 
to  moral  culture.  But  do  you  feel  that  it  is  best  to  wait  for  such  provi- 
dences? to  tempt  God  thus  to  visit  you  with  affiictions?  Every  event 
under  liis  government  is  designed  to  do  you  good ; and  he  who  does 
not  make  it  his  daily  business  to  cultivate  his  heart,  will  be  in  great 
danger  of  never  doing  it.  You  cannot  do  it  at  any  time,  and  in  a 
short  period.  A virtuous  and  holy  character  is  not  built  up  in  a day^ 
it  is  the  work  of  a long  life.  Begin  the  work  at  once,  and  make  it 
as  really  a part  of  your  duties  daily  to  cultivate  the  heart,  as  it  is  to 
take  care  of  the  body,  or  to  cultivate  the  intellect. 

2.  Make  it  apart  of  your  daily  habits  to  cultivate  your  conscience. 

A man  never  came  intemperate  or  profane  at  once.  He  never  be- 
came a promcient  in  any  sin  by  a single  leap.  The  youth  first  hears 
the  oath,  blushes  as  he  falters  out  his  first  profane  expression,  and  goes 
on,  step  by  step,  till  he  rolls  “sin  as  a sweet  morsel  under  his  tongue.” 
It  is  so  with  any  sin.  In  this  way,  the  conscience  is  blunted  and  the 
heart  hardened.  In  this  way,  too,  the  conscience  is  recovered,  and 


154 


CXILIIVATE  CONSCIENCE. 


[CH.  IX. 


made  susceptible  to  divine  impressions.  Were  you  seeking  only  for  a j 
powerful  motive  to  impel  you  onward  in  your  studies,  and  were  you  -1 
regardless  of  your  moral  culture,  still  I would  urge  you,  on  this  ground  1 
alone,  to  cultivate  conscience  most  assiduously.  I will  tell  you  why.  .j 

There  are  but  few  men  who  can  be  brought  to  task  their  powers  so  ' 
as  to  achieve  much  by  motives  drawn  from  tliis  world  only.  With  the  - 
mass  of  educated  men  this  is  true.  Wealth  cannot  bribe  to  steady,  un- 
wearied efforts;  ambition  may  lay  an  iron  hand  on  the  soul,  but  it  ; 
cannot,  excepting  here  and  there,  do  it  with  a grasp  sufficient  to  keep  ■ 
it  in  action : the  soft  Avhispers  of  pleasure  can  do  nothing  toward  shak-  ^ 
ing  off  the  indolence  and  sluggishness  of  man;  and  fame,  with  a silver  \ 
trumpet,  calls  in  vain.  These  motives  can  reach  only  a few.  But  ’ 
conscience  is  a motive  which  can  be  brought  to  bear  upon  all,  and  can  ^ 
be  cultivated  till  she  calls  every  energy,  every  susceptibility,  every  ; 
faculty  of  the  soul  into  constant,  vigorous,  powerful  action.  Every 
other  motive,  when  analyzed,  is  small,  mean,  contemptible,  and  such  ‘ 
as  you  despise  when  you  see  it  operating  upon  others.  The  soul  of 
man  is  ashamed  to  confess  itself  a slave  to  any  other  power.  But  this 
is  not  all:  any  other  motive  soon  loses  its  power.  Trials,  and  misfor- 
tunes, and  disappointments,  damp,  kill  any  other  governing  motive. 
But  this  is  not  so  of  the  man  who  acts  from  conscience.  You  can 
crush  him  only  by  destroying  his  life.  Shut  him  up  in  the  prison,  and 
he  writes  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews — a work  which  is  yet  to  do  won- 
ders, I doubt  not,  Avhen  the  “scattered,  peeled”  sons  of  Israel  are 
called  in.  Shut  him  up  in  prison,  and  his  conscience  arouses  him,  and 
carries  him  onward  to  exertions  unthought  of  before.  The  cold  walls 
of  his  dungeon  grow  warm  while  he  describes  the  Pilgrim’s  Progress  up 
to  eternal  day,  and  scatters  the  food  of  angels  over  the  earth ; while 
he  describes  the  Saint’s  Everlasting  Best,  and  actually  does  more  for 
the  good  of  man,  under  the  pressure  of  conscience,  in  adversity,  than 
during  all  the  days  of  his  prosperity. 

Only  fix  the  impression  on  the  mind  so  that  it  will  be  abiding,  that 
we  are  accountable  to  God  for  all  that  we  accomplish,  and  the  amount 
of  effort  and  success  will  be  almost  unmeasured.  Connect  the  im- 
measurable demands  of  eternity  with  every  effort  to  conquer  sin,  to 
subdue  your  appetites  and  passions,  and  thus  make  the  soul  and  body 
more  disciplined  instruments  of  doing  good,  together  with  every  noble 
resolution,  and  every  exertion,  whether  it  be  for  life  or  for  a moment — 
and  you  will  not  do  small  things;  you  will  not  walk  through  life  unfelt, 
unknown,  and  you  will  not  go  down  to  the  grave  unwept.  Every 
unholy  desire  that  you  conquer;  every  thought  that  you  treasure  up 
for  future  use;  every  moment  that  you  seize  as  it  ffies  and  stamp  with 


CH.  IX.] 


CULTIVATE  CONSCIENCE. 


155 


something  good,  which  it  may  carry  to  the  judgment  seat ; every  in- 
fluence which  you  exert  upon  the  world  for  the  honor  of  God  or  the 
good  of  man — all,  all  is  not  only  connected  with  the  approbation  of 
God  and  the  rewards  of  eternal  ages,  but  all  aids  you  to  strike  for 
higher  and  nobler  efforts  still,  till  you  are  enabled  to  achieve  what  will 
astonish  even  yourself.  Think  over  the  long  list  of  those  men  who 
have  lived  and  acted  under  the  direct  and  continued  influence  of  a 
conscience  which  chained  every  exertion  and  every  thought  directly  to 
the  throne  of  God.  Go,  stand  at  the  grave  of  one  of  these  men  and 
you  will  go  away  musing  and  heart-smitten,  to  think  that  he  finished 
his  work,  and  did  it  so  soon,  and  went  home  to  his  rest  in  the  morning 
of  life,  while  you  have  never  even  contemplated  doing  but  little  good. 
The  stone  over  the  dust  of  such  a one  will  soon  crumble  away;  but  the 
light  which  surrounds  that  grave  will  grow  brighter  and  brighter,  till 
seen  the  earth  over,  because  his  faculties  were  under  the  continued 
direction  and  control  of  conscience. 

Had  I no  other  aim,  then,  than  merely  to  excite  you  to  high  and 
noble  enterprise,  to  make  great  efforts  while  you  live,  that  motive 
which  I would  select  as  incomparably  superior  to  all  others,  to  lead 
you  to  effort,  is  a cultivated,  sanctified  conscience.  But  I have  an  aim 
higher  than  even  this,  in  urging  you  to  cultivate  your  conscience. 

The  path  of  life  is  beset  with  temptations.  This  is  a part  of  our 
moral  discipline.  We  must  meet  them  every  day:  we  cannot  go  round 
them  nor  go  past  them,  without  being  solicited  by  them ; and  nothing 
but  a conscience  increasingly  tender  will  enable  us  to  meet  and  over- 
come them.  For  example,  you  will,  every  week,  if  not  every  day, 
find  seasons  when  you  are  tempted  to  be  idle,  to  waste  your  time. 
There  is  no  motive  at  hand  which  will  arouse  you.  These  fragments  of 
time  are  scattered  all  along  your  path,  l^othing  but  a cultivated  con- 
science will  enable  you  to  save  them.  But  this  will.  It  cannot  be 
created  and  brought  to  bear  upon  you  when  indolence  has  seized  you. 
Ho,  it  must  be  done  before. 

You  will  often  be  tempted  to  smite  with  the  tongue.  The  company 
indulge  freely  in  their  remarks  upon  absent  characters.  Opportunities 
occur  in  which  you  can  throw  in  a word  or  two  handsomely,  and 
therefore  keenly.  You  can  gain  credit  by  the  shrewdness  with  which 
you  judge  of  character,  and  for  your  insight  into  human  nature.  Ho 
motive  of  kindness,  of  politeness,  no  sense  of  justice,  will  now  avail  to 
meet  this  temptation : nothing  but  a tender  conscience  will  do  it. 

You  are  a student.  Your  health  may  not  be  good — your  nerves  are 
easily  excited — you  are  easily  thrown  "off  your  guard,  speak  quickly, 
and  evidently  with  a great  loss  of  self-respect,  which  aids  in  increasing 


156 


CULTIVATE  CONSCIENCE. 


[CH.  IX. 


your  iU -humor  and  your  tartness.  You  cannot  reason  yourself  or 
shame  yourself  into  a good  temper:  a cultivated  conscience  is  the  only 
thing  which  will  sweeten  the  temper. 

In  the  course  of  your  life,  you  will  be  making  bargains,  and  be  more 
or  less  in  habits  of  dealing  with  men.  You  may  intend  to  be  an  hon- 
orable and  an  honest  man ; but  you  will  be  strongly  tempted,  at  times, 
to  cheapen  what  you  buy,  and  overpraise  what  you  sell,  or  to  do  as  you 
would  not  that  others  should  do  unto  you,  unless  you  are  under  the 
direction  of  a clear,  discriminating  conscience. 

You  know  how  much  we  esteem  our  character  in  the  sight  of  men. 
Many  will  fight  for  it,  and  quarrel  for  it,  and  prefer  death  a thousand 
times  to  the  loss  of  character,  in  the  eyes  of  their  fellow -men.  This 
love  of  character  is  as  it  should  be.  But  what  is  it  to  be  judged  of 
men,  in  comparison  to  being  judged  of  God?  Of  what  consequence  is 
it  what  men  say  of  us,  or  think  of  us,  in  comparison  to  what  God  thinks 
of  us  ? Who,  that  believes  in  the  justice  of  God,  and  in  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  would  not  prefer  to  have  his  approbation  to  that  of  the 
universe  besides?  But  you  can  never  gain  his  approbation;  you  can 
never  stand  fair  in  his  sight ; you  can  never  have  him  your  friend,  un- 
less you  have  a heart  that  is  continually  under  the  discipline  of  a well- 
regulated  conscience. 

3.  Avoid  temjytation. 

It  is  wisdom  m beings  as  frail  as  we  are,  not  only  to  use  every  possi- 
ble means  to  overcome  sins  which  beset  us,  but,  as  far  as  possible,  to 
avoid  meeting  them.  If  you  are  on  a journey,  with  a high  object  in 
view  to  be  attained,  and  you  may  be  beset  with  enemies,  you  will  feel 
anxious,  not  merely  to  be  so  well  guarded  that  they  cannot  overcome 
you,  but,  as  far  as  possible,  to  avoid  meeting  them.  There  is  some- 
thing in  the  simple  piety  of  Baxter  which  pleases  us,  when  he  gravely 
tells  us  what  a blessing  he  received  in  narrowly  escaping  getting  a place 
at  court  in  the  early  part  of  his  life.  We  all  believe  in  a superin- 
tending Providence;  and  we  know  that  many  of  the  best  men  who 
have  ever  lived,  have  been  not  merely  shut  out  from  wealth,  and  sta- 
tion, and  honors,  but  made  objects  of  suffering,  and  even  of  derision, 
t<5  the  rest  of  mankind.  The  hand  that  covers  them  seems  rough,  and 
frequently  oppressive.  But  multitudes,  who  have  been  ornaments  to 
society,  and  blessings  to  their  species,  and  who,  after  having  done  their 
work  here,  have  gone  to  the  rewards  of  the  perfect,  have  owed  their 
character  chiefly  to  the  fact,  that  their  circumstances  shielded  them 
from  temptations.  Were  you  to  mark  any  number  of  young  men  in 
the  same  glass,  who  you  would  fear  will  accomplish  little  or  nothing 


CII.  IX.] 


AVOW  TEMPTATION. 


157 


for  the  good  of  man,  you  would  be  likely  to  select  those  who,  by  their 
situations,  are  peculiarly  exposed  to  temptations. 

There  are  said  to  be  peculiar  sins  which  easily  beset  every  man;  and 
there  are  certainly  temptations  which  are  peculiar  to  every  one.  Into 
some  you  fall  oftener  and  more  easily  than  into  others.  Some  will 
meet  you  in  one  place,  and  some  in  another;  some  in  one  shape,  and 
some  in  another.  It  is  important,  for  any  improvement  in  moral  char-  > 
acter,  to  know  where  you  are  peculiarly  exposed;  and  at  those  points  - 
set  a strong  and  wakeful  guard. 

There  are  certain  individuals  with  whom  you  cannot  associate,  with 
whom  you  cannot  spend  an  hour,  without  hearing  things  said,  and 
receiving  impressions  which  tend  to  lower  your  standard  of  honorable 
feeling,  and  of  purity  of  heart.  Their  society  may,  in  many  respects, 
be  enchanting,  their  conversation  bewitching,  while,  at  the  same  time, 
there  may  be  a subtle  poison  which  will  gradually  destroy  your  moral 
sense.  You  love  to  walk  with  some  of  these;  you  love  to  visit  them  in 
their  rooms;  and  you  hope  you  may  have  some  good  influence  upon 
them.  Perhaps  you  will  have;  but  the  danger  is  all  on  your  side. 
The  impressions  which  the  soul  receives,  and  the  modes  of  feeling  into 
which  the  heart  is  gradually  led,  will  not  be  likely  to  startle  you  at 
first,  even  though  their  end  is  moral  death.  How  can  you  hope  to . 
strengthen  your  moral  habits,  and  grow  in  character,  if  you  frequently 
yield  to  the  temptation  of  conversation  which  deadens  the  moral  sensi- 
bilities? Here  is  one  plain  temptation;  and  the  way  to  grow  in 
purity  of  heart  is,  not  to  frequent  such  company,  and  there,  try  to 
throw  some  feeble  influence  in  favor  of  virtue,  and  then  go  away,  and 
lament  and  pray  over  the  instances  in  which  you  yielded  to  temptation; 
but  keep  clear  of  the  danger;  break  off  from  ail  associates  whose  in- 
fluence is  against  the  great  object  of  disciplining  the  heart. 

Some  sins  meet  you  at  particular  seasons.  For  example,  you  notice 
that,  after  study,  or  after  tea,  or  at  some  particular  hour  of  the  day, 
you  have  less  patience  than  usual.  You  are  inclined  to  be  irritable,  or 
you  are  low  in  spirits.  You  are  in  danger  of  cultivating  a bad  habit  of 
feeling  and  speaking,  and  of  trying  the  temper  of  others.  Here  you 
are  beset  at  a particular  time  of  the  day ; set  a watch  over  yourself 
and  avoid  the  danger.  You  can  easily  see  the  rock,  for  it  is  above  the 
waves. 

At  some  particular  time  of  the  day,  or  in  some  particular  situations, 
you  find  yourself  exposed  to  debasing  and  corrupting  thoughts.  They 
fill  the  mind,  and  crowd  out  everything  that  is  good.  These  associa- 
tions arise  only  when  you  are  alone,  or  when  you  are  conversing  on 
some  particular  topics,  or  when  something  is  recalled  by  the  memory. 


158 


AVOII)  TEMPTATION. 


[CH.  IX, 


Can  you  hope  to  conquer  these  legions,  and  drive  away  all  these  un 
clean  birds,  by  any  other  means  than  by  fleeing  from  them?  As  there 

Ld  'be  cast  out  except  by  prayer 

and  fast  mg,  so  these  can  be  overcome  only  by  avoiding  and  SLiJ 

them,  when  they  approach  the  heart,  and  by  the  most  Sincere  prayer 
when  they  have  once  entered  it.  sincere  prayer 

an?wt°sho^dd  character  and  worth. 

The  "booh  seim«  I ^ fn’  a bad  book! 

not  oK'rend  h tJ  ^ accident.  You  do 

not  olten  leacl  it,  but  sometimes  look  into  it:  or  if  you  do  not  own  it 

throwrbXrTvmn temptation 
you  do  imt  nmi  Ip'a  “‘Y  “''ef  ’"'bat  that  book  contains,  if 
SJi^tmn m orde/?rf  ’ ®bouldyou  not  know  what  such  books 
contain,  m order  to  warn  others  against  their  influence?  I renlv  Be- 
ware; and  yield  not  to  this  temptation.  Once  yielding  wheif’thus 
tempted,  may  be  your  ruin;  or,  if  it  be  not,  it  will  takf  y“  W 
T the  mischiefs  which  you  are  bringing^, pon  yom? 

self.  Temptations  should  be  met  at  a distance;  if  you  see  the"^ bird 
evervYeY  Serpent,  she  begins  to  fly  round  and  round,  and  at 

th^eSuir 

You  have  u^at  are  usually  called  “failings,”  or  “little  failine-s  ” 

Si^'ljuUf  voSr  "1?  yo"  can  know  what  these 

are,  but  it  you  find  any  difliculty  m discovering,  you  have  only  to  ask 

your  near  neighbor,  and  he  will  name  man}^  which  you  never  had 
claimed  as  yours.  Now,  what  are  these  foihngs,  except  Xces  at 
which  you  are  constantly  yielding  to  temiitations?  And  how  can  you 
hope  to  cure  yourself  of  them,  except  by  avoiding  them?  Suiipose  you 

lUe^s^von'^to^m  V™  mind  which  is  bold,  impetuous,  and  Forward, 
iii,  ^ t Yr®  remarks  that  are  rash,  and  to  do  things  which 

ycu  not  avoid  every  temptation  to  it?  If 
ter  be  naturally  impetuous,  and  in  danger  of  striking  at  the  first 
You  ma^v°b  ^i^bt  he  not  to  leave  his  sword  behind  him? 

ardm YY-  u temperament,  that  all  company  excites  your 

rr  t ^e  you  losi  your  balance 

tbi«  ^ Y degree  of  depression  following  it.  In 

pospT  yourself  to  run  into  temptation?  Sup- 

Cdlv  Wh  fY  “ propensity  to  be  dishonest,  so  that  he  ck 

of  it  to  1 • ’Y®  property  of  others  without  appropriating  something 

as  bo  bandsYndhis  heart  so  lon| 

when  P®  place  of  temptation?  Should  Judas  carry  thf 

ba^,  when  he  has  fullj  proved  to  himself  that  he  cannot  do  it  without 


Avoid  temptation. 


16Q 


Cfl.  ft. 


I stealing  from  it?  Should  a passionate  man,  whose  temper  is  easily 
^ excited,  throw  himself  in  situations  in  which  he  will  certainly  be 
tempted  to  anger?  Whatever  be  your  weakness,  or  the  spot  at  which 
you  fall,  beware  of  it,  and  shun  it.  I once  knew  a gifted  young  man, 
who,  in  very  early  life,  had  indulged  a love  for  ardent  spirit,  which 
was  almost  fatal.  Under  the  influence  of  conscience  and  religion,  he 
finally  conquered  himself,  and  for  years  did  not  taste  a drop.  In  a 
. conversation  with  him  on  the  subject,  he  told  me  that  so  strong  was 
his  appetite,  that,  even  then,  the  sight  of  a decanter  was  painful ; and 
that  whenever  he  heard  liquor  running  from  a cask  in  a store,  he  im- 
mediately ran  out,  as  fast  as  possible,  whether  his  errand  was  or  was 
not  done.  His  safety  was  only  in  flying.  So  it  is  in  regard  to  any 
temptation.  The  best  way  to  overcome  sin,  is  too  flee  from  its  ap- 
proach. He  who  tampers  with  a temptation  is  already  under  its  power. 
The  lion  will  frequently  let  his  victim  move,  and  will  play  with  it  be- 
fore he  crushes  it. 

4.  Watch  over  your  temjyer. 

There  is  much  said  about  the  natural  disposition  and  temper  of  men ; 
and  the  fact,  that  any  one  has  a temper  which  is  unhap]iy  and  un- 
pleasant, is  both  accounted  and  apologized  for,  by  saying  that  his  tem- 
per is  “naturally”  unpleasant.  It  is  a comfortable  feeling  to  lay  as 
much  blame  upon  nature  as  we  can;  but  the  difficulty  is,  that  the 
action,  to  use  a law  term,  will  not  lie.  Ho  one  has  a temper  naturally 
so  good  that  it  does  not  need  attention  and  cultivation ; and  no  one  has 
a temper  so  bad,  but  that,  by  proper  culture,  it  may  become  pleasant. 
One  of  the  best -disciplined  tempers  ever  seen  was  that  of  a gentleman 
who  was  naturally  quick,  irritable,  rash,  and  violent;  but,  by  having 
the  care  of  the  sick,  and  especially  of  deranged  people,  he  so  completely 
mastered  himself,  that  he  was  never  known  to  be  thrown  off  his  guard. 
The  difference  in  the  happiness  which  is  received  or  bestowed  by  the 
man  who  guards  his  temper,  and  that  by  the  man  man  who  does  not, 
is  immense.  There  is  no  misery  so  constant,  so  distressing,  and  so 
intolerable  to  others,  as  that  of  having  a disposition  which  is  your 
master,  and  which  is  continually  fretting  itself.  There  are  corners 
enough,  at  every  turn  in  life,  against  which  we  may  run,  and  at  which 
we  may  break  out  in  impatience,  if  we  chose. 

Ho  one  can  have  an  idea  of  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  a con- 
stant supervision  and  cultivation  of  the  temper,  till  he  try  them ; not 
that  you  will  certainly  cultivate  the  moral  feelings,  if  the  temper  be 
subdued ; but  you  certainly  Will  not,  if  it  be  not  subdued.  Few  men 
ever  had,  naturally,  by  a more  unmanageable  disposition  then  he  who, 
at  forty  frequently  appears  among  the  most  amiable  of  men.  Look  at 


watch  your  TEIMPER 


leo 


[cH.  n.: 


Eoger  Sherman.  He  made  himself  master  of  his  temper,  and  culti- 
vated it  as  a great  business  in  life.  There  are  one  or  two  instances . 
which  show  this  part  of  his  character  in  a light  that  is  beautiful.  He 
was,  one  day,  after  having  received  his  highest  honors,  sitting  and 
reading  in  his  parlor.  A roguish  student,  in  a room  close  by,  held  a 
looking-glass  in  such  a position  as  to  pour  the  reflected  rays  of  the 
sun  directly  in  Mr.  Sherman’s  face.  He  moved  his  chair,  and  the 
thing  was  repeated.  A third  time  the  chair  w^as  moved,  but  the  look- 
ing-glass still  poured  the  sun  in  his  eyes.  He  laid  aside  his  book,  went 
to  the  window,  and  many  witnesses  of  the  impudence  expected  to  hear 
the  ungentlemanly  student  severely  reprimanded.  He  raised  the  win- 
dow gently,  and  then  shut  the  window  blind!  I cannot  forbear  ad- 
ducing another  instance  of  the  power  which  he  had  acquired  over 
himself. 

He  Avas  naturally  possessed  of  strong  passions : but  over  these  he 
at  length  obtained  an  extraordinary  control.  He  became  habitually 
calm,  sedate,  and  self-possessed.  Mr.  Sherman  Avas  one  of  those  men' 
Avho  are  not  ashamed  to  maintain  the  forms  of  religion  in  his  family. 
One  morning,  he  called  them  together,  as  usual,  to  lead  them  in  prayer 
to  God ; the  ‘ old  family  Bible’  Avas  brought  out  and  laid  on  the  table. 
Mr.  Sherman  took  his  seat,  and  beside  him  placed  one  of  his  children, 
a small  child — a child  of  his  old  age ; the  rest  of  the  family  Avere  seated 
round  the  room ; seA^eral  of  these  Avere  noAV  groAvn  up.  Besides  these, 
some  of  the  tutors  of  the  college  Avere  boarders  in  the  family,  and  were 
present  at  the  time  alluded  to.  His  aged  and  now  superannuated 
mother  occupied  a corner  of  the  room,  opposite  the  place  Avhere  the 
distinguished  judge  of  Connecticut  sat.  At  length,  he  opened  the 
Bible  and  began  to  read.  The  child,  Avhich  Avas  seated  beside  him, 
made  some  little  disturbance,  upon  Avhich  Mr.  Sherman  paused,  and 
told  it  to  be  still.  Again  he  proceeded ; but  again  he  paused,  to  ^ 
reprimand  the  little  offender,  Avhose  playful  disposition  Avould  scarcely 
permit  it  to  be  still.  At  this  time,  he  gently  tapped  its  ear.  The  - 
blow,  if  it  might  be  called  a blow,  caught  the  attention  of  his  aged 
mother,  Avho  noAV,  Avith  some  effort,  rose  from  her  seat,  and  tottered 
across  the  room.  At  length,  she  reached  the  chair  of  Mr.  Sherman, 
and  in  a moment,  most  unexpected  to  him,  she  gave  him  a blow  on 
the  ear,  with  all  the  power  she  could  summon.  * There said  she,  'you 
strihe  your  child ^ and  I will  strike  mined 

“For  a moment  the  blood  Avas  seen  rushing  to  the  face  of  Mr.  Sher- 
man ; but  it  Avas  ord/y  for  a moment,  Avhen  all  Avas  calm  and  mild  as 
usual.  He  paused — he  raised  his  spectacles — he  cast  his  eye  upon  his  ' 
mother — again  it  fell  upon  the  book,  from  AA^hich  he  had  been  reading.  . 


Cfl.  IX.] 


ANECDOTE. 


161 


Not  a word  escaped  lym;  but  again  he  calmly  pursued  the  service,  and 
I soon  after  sought,  in  prayer,  an  ability  to  set  an  example  before  his 
household,  which  should  be  worthy  of  their  imitation.  Such  a victory 
was  worth  more  than  the  proudest  victory  ever  achieved  in  the  field  of 
battle.” 

Suppose,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  as  you  look  back  upon  what  you 
have  done  and  said,  you  see  that,  in  one  instance,  you  answered  a com- 
Ipanion  short  and  tartly ; in  another,  you  broke  out  in  severe  invective 
|upon  one  who  was  absent;  in  another,  you  were  irritated  and  vexed  at 
some  trifle,  though  you  kept  it  to  yourself,  and  felt  the  corrosions  of  an 
ill  temper  without  betraying  your  feelings,  otherwise  than  by  your 
countenance.  Can  you  now  look  back  upon  the  day  with  any  degree 
of  comfort?  Can  you  feel  that  3^ou  have  made  any  advancement  in 
subduing  yourself,  so  that  you  can  look  at  yourself  with  cheerfulness 
and  respect  during  this  day  ? And  if  this  be  so,  from  day  to  day,  and 
from  week  to  week,  can  you  expect  that  your  heart  will  be  more  and 
more  subdued?  You  may  be  sure,  that  no  one,  who  gives  way  to  his 
temper,  during  every  day,  that  at  night  he  has  to  reproach  himself  for 
it,  can  be  growing  in  moral  excellence. 

You  need  not  be  discouraged  in  your  attempts  to  correct  a quick,  an 
irritable,  and  a bad  temper,  even  though,  at  first,  unsuccessful.  Suc- 
cess, on  this  point,  will  certainly  follow  exertion.  It  is  one  mark  of  a 
great,  as  well  as  a good  man,  to  have  a command  over  the  temper.  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  was  challenged  by  a hot-headed  young  man;  and, 
because  he  coolly  refused  to  fight,  the  young  man  proceeded  to  spit  in 
his  face,  in  public.  Sir  Walter  took  his  handkerchief,  and,  calmly 
wiping  his  face,  merely  made  this  reply: — “Young  man,  if  I could  as: 
easily  wipe  your  blood  from  my  conscience  as  I can  this  injury  from 
my  face,  I would  this  moment  take  away  your  life.”  The  great  Dr. 
Boerhaave  was  always  unmoved  by  any  provocation,  though  the  prac- 
tice of  medicine  is  by  no  means  well  calculated  to  soothe  the  nerves. 
Upon  being  asked  how  he  obtained  such  a mastery  over  himself,  he 
stated,  that  “he  was  naturally  quick  of  resentment,  but  that  he  had, 
by  daily  prayer  and  meditation,  at  length  attained  to  this  mastery  over 
himself.  ’ ’ 

You  will  have  strong  temptations  to  irritability  of  temper;  for  it  is 
impossible  to  be  a student,  and  not  have  the  system  in  such  a state 
that  little  vexations  will  jar  upon  your  nerves.  But  the  indulgence  of 
such  a temper  will  not  merely  mar  your  present  peace,  injure  you  in 
the  eyes  of  all  who  know  you,  hurt  your  usefulness,  hasten  on  a pre- 
mature old  age,  but  it  is  fatal  to  that  peace  of  mind  which  consists  "n 
“a  pure  conscience.” 

11 


WATCH  TOUR  TEMPER 


[cit.  tx! 


The  heart  sickens  in  despondency,  when,  at  the  close  of  the  day, 
you  go  to  the  closet  and  have  to  reflect,  that  your  temper  is  still  un- 
subdued ; and  that,  while  you  ought  to  be  above  being  moved  by  the 
little  troubles  which  meet  you,  they  constantly  oppress  you.  If  you 
now  have  no  more  of  character  than  to  give  way  to  your  disposition, 
while  in  the  retirement  of  the  study,  what  will  you  do  when  the  multi- 
plied vexations  of  active  life  come  upon  you  ? 

5.  Be  careful  to  improve  your  thoughts  when  alcne. 

There  will  be  seasons,  recurring  frequently,  when  you  must  be  alone. 
You  will  walk  alone,  or  you  will  sit  in  the  evening  shade  alone,  or  you 
will  lie  on  a sleepless  pillow  alone.  Every  student  ought  not  only  to  ex- 
pect this,  but  to  desire  it ; and  never,  if  faithful  to  himself,  need  he  be 
less  alone  than  hen  alone.  The  appetites  and  passions  are  so  apt  to 
ramble,  that  we  esteem  him  to  be  good  at  self-government  who  subdues 
them;  but  the  thoughts  are  but  little  behind  in  giving  the  conscientious 
man  trouble.  The  two  difficulties  which  will  meet  you  most  constantly, 
are,  to  keep  the  thoughts  from  wandering,  and  from  wandering  in  for- 
bidden paths.  What  is  vain  and  visionary  will  easily  steal  in  upon  you 
when  alone,  and  you  will  soon  become  a most  wretched  companion  to 
yourself,  and  your  own  temper.  You  can  easily  get  into  the  habit  of 
looking  back,  and  recalling  what  you  have  read  or  studied,  and  exami- 
ning what  way-marks  you  have  put  up,  or  of  reviving  the  memory  of  in- 
formation and  knowledge  which  you  have  received  by  conversation ; but 
if  you  do  not  cultivate  this  habit,  there  will  be  one  at  your  elbow  ever 
ready  to  enter  the  heart  and  become  the  strong  man  of  the  house.  The 
memory  and  the  judgment  may  both  be  cultivated  by  employing  your 
thoughts  upon  whatever  you  have  been  studying  or  reading  for  the  last 
twenty-four  hours.  Your  process  will  be,  first,  to  recall  anything  valu- 
able which  you  have  met  with,  and  then  classify  it,  and  weigh  it,  and 
judge  as  to  the  occasions  in  which  you  may  wish  to  use  it. 

I have  spoken  of  the  practice  of  building  castles  in  the  air — a prac-' 
tice  which  will  be  very  apt  to  steal  in  upon  you  till  it  becomes  a regular 
habit,  unless  you  are  very  careful.  You  can  hardly  be  too  solicitous 
to  keep  clear  of  this  habit.  I have  also  spoken  of  worse  results  of 
permitting  the  thoughts  to  wander  when  alone — evils  which  want  a 
name,  to  convey  any  conception  of  their  enormity. 

There  are  many  great  advantages  in  taking  frequent  opportunities  of 
employing  your  thoughts  alone. 

The  mind  and  feelings  are  soothed  by  the  process ; and  this  is  an 
object  every  way  desirable.  Who  can  rush  into  the  responsibilities, 
the  anxieties,  and  the  labors  of  the  student  without  strong  excitement? 
Who  can  see  the  field  of  knowledge  continually  and  boundlessly  open- 


CH.  IX.] 


ADVANTAGES  OF  BEING  ALONE. 


163 


ing  before  him,  with  multitudes  who,  like  himself,  have  staked  their 
character,  hopes  and  happiness  upon  success,  ready  to  compete  with 
him,  without  having  the  excitement  continually  increasing  and  growing 
upon  him?  There  will  be  little  disappointments  frequently,  little  trials, 
mistakes,  which  harass  and  vex  you  beyond  measure.  You  need 
.seasons  of  meditation,  by  which  the  feelings  become  soothed  and  soft- 
ened, and  the  judgment  rendered  clear  and  decided. 

The  future  lies  before  you.  It  will  come^it  will  bring  changes  to 
you;  some  of  them  will  be  severe  and  heavy  to  bear.  There  will  be 
sorrows  and  disappointments  in  your  progress.  You  need  to  anticipate 
the  future,  so  far  as  you  can  do  it,  by  sitting  down  and  looking  calmly 
at  the  possible  events  which  may  be  before  you.  He  who  never  looks 
out  and  anticpates  a storm,  will  be  but  poorly  prepared  to  meet  it 
when  it  comes.  I do  not  mean  that  you  should  go  into  the  future,  and 
there  take  a possible  calamity,  and  then  grapple  with  it  as  with  your 
destiny,  and  thus  mentally  endure  evils  which  probably  will  never 
come ; for  no  one  is  likely  to  hit  upon  the  real  evils  which  will  overtake 
him;  but  I mean  that  the  thoughtless  man,  who  never  communes  with 
himself,  is  the  man  who  meets  troubles  with  the  least  resignation. 

You  have  plans,  too,  for  the  future,  which  need  to  be  laid  in  your 
own  bosom  first — matured  there — reviewed  there  till  they  are  per- 
fected, under  all  the  light  which  frequent  contemplations  can  throw 
upon  them.  Your  thoughts,  while  alone,  are  the  best  instruments  with 
i which  to  ripen  the  fruit  of  future  exertions. 

Some  are  afraid  of  themselves,  and  dread  few  things  more  than  to 
find  themselves  alone.  Every  thought  of  the  past  or  oi  the  future  only 
! discourages  them ; and  they  can  be  comfortable  only  by  forgetting 
i themselves.  But  this  is  not  wise.  Were  it  possible  for  a friend  to 
i whisper  all  your  failings,  deficiencies,  and  faults  into  your  ear,  without 
I wounding  your  feelings,  and  causing  you  to  revolt  under  the  discipline, 

' it  would  be  an  invaluable  blessing  to  you.  What  such  a friend  might 
I do,  you  can  do  for  yourself,  by  your  thoughts,  when  alone,  and  that 
. without  any  mortification.  A man  can  thus  be  his  own  teacher,  and, 
after  repeated  trials,  can  weigh  his  actions,  conduct,  and  character  very 
accurately. 

He  who  does  not  know  himself,  wiU  never  be  ready  so  to  make 
allowances  for  others,  as  to  be  greatly  beloved.  He  will  be  in  danger 
of  being  harsh  and  censorious;  while  he  who  is  in  the  habit  of  measur- 
ing himself,  in  the  cool  moments  of  retirement,  ivill  seldom  fail  of 
knowing  so  much  of  himself,  that  he  will  regard  with  tenderness  the 
failings  of  others.  In  studying  your  own  character,  you  have  a wide 
field  opening  before  you.  You  will  fail  of  doing  yourself  any  good, 


164 


STUDY  THE  FUTURE. 


1 


[CH.  IX. 


if,  in  looking  at  yourself,  you  do  not  make  it  your  determination  faith- 
fully  to  reprove  yourself  for  your  failings  and  faults.  Mark  the  places 
where  you  trip,  and  be  sure  to  shun  them  the  next  time,  hlote  every 
instance  in  which  you  trespassed  upon  the  kindness,  the  feelings,  or  the 
light  of  others;  and  in  all  cases  in  which  you  have  failed  to  observe 
the  golden  rule,  reprove  yourself  with  due  severity,  and  see  that  you 
amend.  You  will  find  that,  at  some  particular  places,  you  have  shown 
a heart  that  was  selfish  or  wanton- — a temper  that  was  revengeful  and 
unkind  a spirit  that  was  jealous,  or  envious,  or  malicious — a self- 
conceit  that  was  unpleasant — or  a positiveness  that  required  others  to 
acknowledge  your  infallibility.  No  one  can  be  alone,  and  look  over 
his  character,  and  the  manifestations  of  that  character,  long,  without 
seeing  numerous  deficiencies,  and  marking  many  places  at  which  he 
will  set  a guard  in  future. 

One  of  the  best  criterions  by  which  to  judge  of  your  character,  is,  to 
examine  the  characters  of  those  of  whose  society  you  are  especially 
fond.  You  will  be  more  intimate  with  some  than  with  others.  They 
will  be  more  likely  to  flatter  you ; and  no  better  index  can  ever  be 
found  to  a man’s  real  character,  than  those  who  are  his  flatterers.  If 
you  can  discover — and  who  cannot,  if  he  tries? — who  are  most  fre- 
quently flattering  you,  it  will  be  easy  for  you  to  see  where  you  stand. 
In  no  moral  excellence  will  you  be  likely  to  be  above  those  who  pay 
for  your  company  by  their  flatteries.  You  can,  in  this  way,  most 
accurately  know  the  state  of  your  heart ; and  in  your  hours  of  medita- 
tion you  will  be  unwise  to  neglect  to  submit  your  life  to  this  ordeal. 

By  attention  to  your  thoughts  when  alone,  you  can  obtain  what  can . 
in  no  other  situation  be  obtained — definite  and  correct  views  of  the ; 
character  of  God.  No  reading,  or  preaching,  or  conversation,  can  ever? 
give  you  clear  conceptions  on  this  great  subject,  without  meditation. S; 
Frorn  our  infancy  we  hear  the  character  of  God  described;  we  read  the'^ 
descriptions  of  his  character  in  his  word;  but,  after  all,  we  are  not^ 
likely  to  attach  correct  and  precise  ideas  to  this  language,  unless  we ' 
reflect  much  alone.  On  other  subjects  it  is  not  so.  If,  from  your 
infancy,  you  should  hear  the  characteristics  of  a steam-engine  described, f 
as  you  grew  up,  your  ideas  would  become  definite  and  settled  by  ex-- 
perience.  You  would  see  the  engine  frequently,  or  converse  with 
those  who  had  seen  it.  But  our  conceptions  of  the  character  of  our 
Maker  do  not  become  definite  by  experience.  The  same  terms  may. 
convey  wrong  impressions,  all  the  way  through  life,  if  we  never  make 
this  the  subject  of  meditation.  Let  my  young  reader  try  it,  and  he  > 
^ill  find  that  u single  hour  of  close  thought  alone  will  give  him  view^ 


CH.  IX.]  DAILY  BEADING  THE  BIBLE.  165 

of  the  charater  of  God,  which  are  more  defiaite,  clear,  and  satisfactor;^ , 
than  anything  of  which  he  has  ever  made  trial. 

6.  Be  in  the  daily  practice  of  reading  the  word  of  God. 

The  whole  journey  of  life  is  a continued  series  of  checks,  disappoint- 
ments, and  sorrows.^  In  other  words,  all  the  dealings  of  Providence 
toward  us  are  designed  for  the  purposes  of  moral  discipline.  On  no 
other  supposition  can  we  reconcile  his  dealings,  with  his  infinite  benevo 
fence,  or  feel  resigned  in  the  circumstances  in  which  we  are  frequently 
placed.  But  those  views  of  God,  and  of  ourselves,  which  are  essential 
to  our  peace  and  discipline  of  heart,  are  to  be  found  only  in  the  word 
of  God.  I have  often  been  struck  with  a passage  in  the  Travels  of  the 
celebrated  Mungo  Park,  describing  his  situation  and  feelings  when 
alone  in  the  very  heart  of  Africa.  “Whichever  way  I turned,  nothing 
appeared  but  danger  and  difficulty.  1 saw^  myself  in  the  midst  of  a 
vast  wilderness,  in  the  depth  of  the  rainy  season,  naked  and  alone, 
surrounded  by  savage  animals,  and  men  still  more  savage.  I was  five 
hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  European  settlement.  All  these  cir- 
cumstances crowded  at  once  on  my  recollection,  and  I confess  that  my 
spirits  began  to  fail  me.  I considered  my  fate  as  certain,  and  that  I 
had  no  alternative  but  to  lie  down  and  perish.  The  influence  of  relig- 
ion, however,  aided  and  su]iported  me.  I recollected  that  no  human 
prudence  or  foresight  could  have  arrested  my  present  sufferings.  I 
indeed  was  a stranger  in  a strange  land;  yet  I was  still  under  the  pro- 
tecting eye  of  that  Providence  Avho  has  condescended  to  call  himself  the 
strangers’  friend.  At  this  moment,  painful  as  my  reflections  Avere,  the 
extraordinary  beauty  of  a small  moss  in  fructification  irresistibly  caught 
my  eye.  I mention  this  to  show  from  what  trifling  circumstances  the 
mind  Avill  sometimes  derAe  consolation;  for,  though  the  AAffiole  plant 
was  not  larger  than  the  top  of  one  of  my  Angers,  I could  not  contem- 
plate tlie  delicate  conformation  of  its  roots,  leaA^es,  and  capsula,  Avithout 
admiration.  Can  that  Being,  thought  I,  Avho  planted,  watered,  and 
brought  to  perfection,  in  this  obscure  part  of  th©  world,  a thing  Avhich 
appears  of  so  small  importance,  look  with  unconcern  upon  the  situation 
and  sufferings^  of  creatures  formed  after  his  own  image?  Surely  not. 
jPeflections  like  these  would  not  allow  me  to  despair.  I started  up, 
and,  disregarding  both  hunger  and  fatigue,  traveled  forAvard,  assured 
that  relief  AA"as  at  hand ; and  I Avas  not  disappointed.  ” 

■ This  is  a touching  incident  in  the  life  of  a braA^e  man,  and  is  beauti- 
fully expressed.  But  let  us  notice  the  fact  that  God  has  made  two  dis- 
tinct revelations  of  himself  to  this  world,  each  of  Avhich  is  perfect  in  its 
kind.  The  one  is  by  his  Avorks — so  clearly  revealing  his  eternal  poAver 
1 and  Godhead  in  these,  that  the  very  heathen  are  inexcusable  for  not 


166 


DAILY  READING  THE  BIBLE. 


[CH.  IX. 


worshiping  him.  The  heavens,  the  earth,  all  his  works,  even  to  the  little 
“moss”  which  lifts  its  humble  head  in  the  sands  of  the  desert,  unite  in 
teaching  his  wisdom,  his  power,  and  his  goodness.  And  it  was  very 
natural  for  Park  thus  to  gain  confidence  and  instruction  from  this 
microscopic  forest,  planted  and  watered  by  an  unseen  hand ; but  I am 
confident  that,  had  he,  at  the  same  time,  looked  at  the  other  revelation 
which  God  has  made,  and  drawn  from  the  Bible,  he  would  have  had  a 
confidence  still  stronger,  and  even  joy  in  again  committing  himself 
to  one  who  suffers  not  the  sparrow  to  fall  without  his  special  direction. 
In  the  ninteeenth  Psalm  is  a beautiful  parallel  drawn  between  these 
two  revelations  of  heaven;  and  the  superiority  of  the  written  most 
decidedly  extolled.  The  monarch  of  Israel  seems  to  have  been  walking 
on  the  top  of  his  palace  on  one  of  those  clear,  delightful  evenings 
which  hang  over  Palestine,  and  contemplating  the  works  of  his  Maker. 
He  breaks  out  in  praise,  declaring  that  the  heavens  and  the  starry 
firmament  beam  out  the  glory  of  God;  and,  looking  down  upon  the 
earth,  he  says  that  every  day  speaks  to  the  one  that  is  to  follow  it,  and 
every  night  to  its  successor — declaring  the  character  of  God;  and 
though  no  speech  is  heard,  and  no  language  is  uttered  by  the  works  of 
God,  yet  they  reveal  him  through  all  the  earth,  wherever  the  sun  shines. 
He  then  seems  to  forget  all  the  brightness  of  the  heavens  and  the, 
glories  of  earth,  as  he  turns  away  to  the  word  of  God — that  better 
revelation  of  himself.  His  harp  rises  in  its  strains  as  he  celebrates, 
that ; for  here  is  a revelation  which  is  perfect,  complete,  reaching  the 
soul,  commending  itself  to  the  conscience,  gladdening  the  heart,  en- 
lightening the  understanding,  enduring  in  its  effects  upon  the  soul, 
gratifying  the  taste,  and,  beyond  all,  restraining  from  sin  and  purify-, 
ing  the  heart.  This  spontaneous  burst  of  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel  is 
probably  the  most  perfect  eulogy  upon  the  word  of  God  Avhich  the 
world  has  ever  seen. 

Perhaps  the  best  uninspired  eulogy  upon  the  Bible  is  from  the  pen  of  ‘ 
that  masterly  scholar,  Sir  William  Jones.  It  was  written  on  a blank; 
page  in  his  Bible,  and  also  inserted  in  his  eighth  Discourse  before  the  ; 
Soicety  for  Asiatic  Eesearches.  “The  Scriptures  contain,  independ- 
ently of  a divine  origin,  more  true  sublimity,  more  exquisite  beauty, 
purer  morality,  more  important  history,  and  finer  strains  both  of  poetry 
and  eloquence,  than  could  be  collected,  within  the  same  compass,  from 
all  other  books  that  were  ever  composed  in  any  age,  or  in  any  idiom. 
The  two  parts  of  which  the  Scriptures  consist,  are  connected  by  a chain 
of  compositions,  which  bears  no  resemblance,  in  form  or  style,  to  any 
that  can  be  produced  from  the  stores  of  Grecian,  Indian,  Persian,  or 
even  Arabian  learning.  The  antiquity  of  those  compositions  no  piail  / 


Icn.  IX.]  VABIETT  IN  THE  SCRIPTURES. 

doubts ; and  the  unstrained  application  of  them  to  events  long  subsequent 
to  their  publication  is  a solid  ground  of  belief  that  they  were  genuine 

predictions,  and  consequently  inspired.  ” , . ^ . 

Deists  and  sceptics,  in  swarms,  have  studied  the  revelation  ot  nature,  . 
and  professed  to  see  and  know  God ; but  from  this,  source  they  draw 
no  truths  in  which  they  can  agree,  no  precepts  whph  in  any  measure 
break  the  power  of  sin  within  the  heart,  no  consolations  which  bow 
the  will  to  that  of  God  in  the  hour  of  suffering  and  trial,  and  no  hope 
that  can  sustain  and  cheer  the  soul  when  she  is  called  to  feel  her  house 

shake  and  fall  in  pieces.  t j ^ 

“The  Bible  resembles  an  extensive  and  highly-cultivated  garden, 
where  there  is  a vast  variety  and  profusion  of  fruits  and  flowers;  some 
of  which  are  more  essential  or  more  splendid  than  others ; but  there  is 
not  a blade  suffered  to  grow  in  it,  which  has  not  its  use  and  beauty  in 
the  system.  Salvation  for  sinners  is  the  grand  truth  presented  every- 
1 where,  and  in  all  points  of  light;  but  the  pure  in  heart  sees  a thousand 
traits  of  the  divine  character,  of  himself,  and  of  the  world,  some  strik- 
ing and  bold,  others  cast,  as  it  were,  into  the  shade,  and  designed  to 
be  searched  for  and  examined,  some  direct,  others  by  way  of  intima- 
tion or  inference.  ” X i.  -C  4.1. 

You  cannot  enjoy  the  Scriptures  unless  you  have  a taste  tor  them; 
and  to  this  end,  it  is  absoluteiv  essential  that  you  read  them  daily. 
Many  have  tried  to  read  the  Bible,  and  were  entirely  unsuccessful. 
They  have  obtained  new  editions,  in  different  forms,  and  yet  there  was 
no  enioyment  in  reading.  One  reason  was,  that  they  never  were  in 
the  habit  of  reading  the  Bible  every  day;  and  unless  you  have  this 
habit,  it  is  in  vain  ever  to  hope  to  see  or  feel  any  of  those  excellences 
which  others  praise.  You  could  enjoy  no  study,  if  taken  up  only  now 
and  then.  Ever}^'  student  knows  that  he  feels  interest  in  any  study  in 
proportion  as  he  continues  to  attend  to  it  day  after  day  for  some  time. 
This  is  true  of  the  mathematics,  where  the  taste  has  but  little  to  do. 
Take  up  Euclid  once  in  a year,  and  look  over  a few  propositions,  and 
you  feel  but  little  interest  in  it.  Open  Shakespeare  once  in  many 
months,  and  you  read  with  no  interest ; and  the  longer  the  intervals  are 
between  reading  him,  the  less  is  the  disposition  to  recur  to  him.  So  of 
any  other  book.  ^ 

Perhaps  few  characters  have  ever  had  their  time  more  fully  en- 
grossed with  business  than  Queen  Eliazbeth ; yet  she  is  said  to  have 
fouud  time  to  read  the  Scriptures  daily,  and  to  have  acquired  a de- 
cided taste  for  them.  “I  walk,”  says  she,  “many  times  in  the  pleas- 
ant fields  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  where  I pluck  up  the  goodlisome 
herbs  of  sentences  by  pruning,  eat  them  by  reading,  digest  them  by 


168 


EXAMPLE  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETM. 


[CH.  tx 


musing,  and  lay  them  up  at  length  in  the  high  seat  of  memory  b}; 
gathering  them  together ; so  that,  having  tasted  their  sweetness,  1 may 
perceive  the  bitterness  of  life.  ’ ’ 

A little  before  his  death,  the  great  Locke,  being  asked  how  a young 
man  could,  “in  the  shortest  and  surest  way,  attain  a knowledge  of  the 
Christian  religion,  in  the  full  and  just  extent  of  it,”  made  this  mein- 
.orable  reply:  “Let  him  study  the  Holy  Scriptures,  especially  the  Hew 
Testament.  Therein  are  contained  the  words  of  eternal  life.  It  has 
God  for  its  author,  salvation  for  its  end,  and  truth,  without  any  mix- 
ture of  error,  for  its  matter.  ’ ’ 

I would  not  only  most  earnestly  recommend  you  to  read  the  Scrip- 
tures daily,  but  would  add  a few  hints  as  to  the  best  method  of  doing 
it. 


1.  Read  the  Bible  alone  in  your  retirement. 

The  reason  of  this  is  obvious.  Your  mind  will  be  less  distracted,  the 

attention  less  likely  to  be  called  off,  your  thoughts  less  likely  to  wander. 
You  can  read  deliberately,  slowly,  understandingly,  and  with  personal 
application.  It  will  soon  become  a delightful  habit;  and  you  will 
shortly  greet  tlie  time  when  you  are  to  be  alone  with  your  Bible,  with 
as  much  interest  as  if  you  were  to  be  with  your  dearest  earthly  friej  id. 
Ho  taste  is  so  much  improved  by  habit  and  cultivation  as  the  taste  for 
the  word  of  God.  There  is  a condensation  in  language,  a power  in  the 
poetry  and  eloquence  of  the  Bible,  aside  from  its  moral  influence,  which 
brings  the  taste  of  the  reader  to  its  own  standard,  wdth  astonishing 
rapidity. 

2.  JFor  all  praGtieal  purposes  in  your  daily  reading  icse  the  commoft 
translation  of  the  Bible. 

For  accurate  and  critical  stud}^,  the  student  will  of  course  go  to  the 
original,  and  to  commentators.  But  to  obtain  a general  knowledge  of 
the  revelation- in  our  hands,  and  to  cultivate  the  moral  feelings  of  the 
heart,  the  common  translation  is  incomparably  superior  to  anything 
else.  It  is  of  great  importance  to  obtain  such  a knowledge  of  the  Bible 
as  you  will  obtain  by  reading  it  in  order.  I suppose  the  word  of  God 
was  given  in  parcels,  from  time  to  time,  as  was  best  adapted  to  the 
state  of  the  world,  and  best  adapted  to  give  us  correct  conceptions  of 
the  character  and  government  of  God.  1 would  have  one  part  of  your 
time  employed  in  reading  the  books  in  order,  going  regularly  through 
the  Bible  in  this  way  as  fast  as  your  circumstances  will  admit.  At 
another  sitting,  and  in  another  part  of  the  day,  I would  read  some 
part  that  is  strictly  devotional,  such  as  the  Psalms,  the  Gospels,  or  the 
Prophets.  Ho  young  man  can  be  too  familiar  with  the  book  of  Prov- 
erbs. There  is  an  amazing  amount  of  practical  wisdom  treasured  up 


m.  IX.] 


USE  TEE  COMMON  TRANSLATION. 


169 


there ; and  the  young  man  who  should  have  that  at  his  command,  will 
be  likely  to  do  wisely.  All  the  proverbs  and  wise  sayings  of  the  earth 
3an  bear  no  comparison  to  those  of  Solomon  for  value ; and  there  is 
scarcely  one  of  any  value,  the  essence  of  which  is  not  already  in  his.  I 
t\^ould  not  recommend  commentaries  of  any  kind  for  your  daily  reading. 
They  are  like  putting  crutches  under  the  arms  of  a man  nearly  well. 
They  will  aid  him  now  for  a short  time,  but  will  eventually  do  injury. 
Fie  who  uses  a commentator  constantly  will  soon  feel  that  it  is  essen- 
:ial;  that  the  Scriptures  contain  but  little,  while  the  commentary  is 
dch ; and  that  he  must  rely  upon  it  for  all  his  opinions.  What  opin- 
ons  you  have,  will  also  leave  you  at  once ; for  what  comes  easily,  will 
oe  sure  to  go  as  easily. 

3.  Read  the  Scriptures  with  an  humble^  teachable  disposition. 

The  strongest  of  all  evidence  in  favor  of  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible 
s the  internal — that  which  the  good  man  feels.  This,  indeed,  is  such 
IS  no  arguments  of  the  infidel  can  shake.  On  other  evidence  you  can 
:hrow  doubts  for  a moment,  bring  objections  which  cannot  at  once  be 
inswered,  suggest  difficulties  which  perplex; — but  you  may  heap  diffi- 
culties up  like  mountain  piled  upon  mountain,  and  the  good  mdji  feels 
:hat  his  Bible  is  from  God.  This  is  just  as  you  w^ould  suppose  it  w^ould 
t)e  with  a book  from  heaven.  But,  aside  from  this,  there  is  evidence 
enough  to  crush  every  doubt  forever.  It  is  well  to  measure  the  base 
ind  examine  the  foundations  of  the  building,  if  your  circumstances  will 
dlow  of  it ; but  if  you  cannot  do  it  just  now,  reserve  it  for  some  future 
:ime.  But  you  cannot  derive  good  from  the  Bible,  unless  you  have  an 
bumble  mind.  A child  might  say  that  the  sun  and  stars  aU  moved 
;pound  the  earth;  that  his  reason  taught  him  so;  and  that  it  was  be- 
fitting that  God  should  thus  form  the  universe.  But  the  reason  of  the 
child  cannot  decide  such  points.  You  must  not  say  that  you  can 
lecide  what  and  how  much  God  ought  to  reveal.  We  cannot  explain 
or  understand  the  mysteries  which  hang  around  every  grain  of  sand 
and  every  drop  of  w^ater;  much  less  can  Ave  expect  at  once  to  have  a 
revelation  about  a Being  AAdiom  no  eye  ever  saAv,  and  a country  from 
“whose  bourne  no  traA^eler”  eA^er  returns,  AAuthbut  meeting  Avith  diffi- 
culties and  mysteries. 

Humility  Avill  teach  us  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  Bevelation,  and  receiA^e 
her  instructions  Avithout  caAuling.  Beverence  toAvard  the  author,  the 
contents  of  the  Scriptures,  and  our  own  everlasting  Avelfare,  demand 
that  AA^e  read  Avith  humility.  We  must  be  docile.  We  are  ignorant 
and  need  instruction;  Ave  are  dark,  and  need  illumination;  Ave  are 
debased  by  our  passions  and  sins,  and  need  elevating.  The  torch  of 
reason  cannot  enlighten  AAffiat  hangs  beyond  the  grave ; the  conjecture^ 


170 


EUMILITT  DESIRABLE. 


[CH.  rx 


of  the  imagination  only  bewilder;  and  without  receiving  the  Bibh 
with  the  spirit  of  a child,  you  will  conjecture,  and  theorize,  and  wilder, 
till  you  find  yourself  on  an  ocean  of  uncertainty,  without  a chart  tc 
guide  you,  a compass  by  which  to  steer,  or  a haven  which  you  can  hope 
to  make.  ^ 

4.  Bead  the  Scriptures  under  a constant  sense  of  high  responsihility . 

If  the  book  in  your  hand  be  the  only  revelation  which  has  been  made 
to  man,  and  if  God  has  spoken  his  inind  and  will  in  that,  then  you 
have  a standard  to  which  you  can  at  all  times  bring  your  conscience, 
by  which  you  can  cultivate  your  heart  and  grow  in  purity.  You  have 
a book  which  is  able  to  fit  you  for  the  highest  usefulness,  to  point  out 
the  noblest  ends  of  your  existence,  the  best  method  of  attaining  those 
ends;  which  can  soothe  you  when  the  heart  is  corroding  by  vexatious 
cares,  \yhich  can  humble  you  when  in  danger  of  being  lifted  up  by 
prosperity ; which  can  sustain  you  when  your  own  strength  is  gone, 
and  which,  after  having  led  you  as  the  star  led  the  wise  men  of  the 
East,  through  life,  will  at  last  lead  you  to  a world  where  the  soul  shall 
live  and  act  in  her  strength,  the  mind  be  enlarged  to  the  utmost  of  its 
capacity,  and  where  your  wishes  will  only  be  commensurate  with  your 
Can  you  neglect  this  book  without  doing  yourself  injus- 
tice? You  are  but  of  yesterday,  and  have  had  time  to  learn  but  little 
of  Avhat  is  around  you ; and  without  divine  aid,  you  never  would  learn 
what  is  the  destiny  of  your  nature,  nor  the  path  which  lies  before  the 
soul  in  the  eternal  world ; but  God  has  given  you  his  own  word  to 
teach,  to  direct,  and  to  sanctify  you.  If  you  have  anything  of  wisdom,, 
you  will  read  the  Scriptures  daily:  if  you  do  not  do  it,  you  may  be 
sure  the  reason  is,  that  you  are  so  in  love  with  sin,  that  you  are  un- 
willing to  have  a light  poured  upon  you  which  would  rebuke  you. 

7.  Be  in  the  habit  of  faithfully  reviewing  your  conduct  at  stated 
seasons. 

When  these  stated  seasons  shall  be,  and  how  often  they  shall  recur, 
is  not  for  me  to  say.  But  they  shall  recur  often,  and  periodically.  A 
heathen  philosopher  strongly  urged  his  pupils  to  examine,  every  night 
before  they  slept,  what  they  had  been  doing  that  day,  and  so  discover 
vdiat  actions  are  worthy  of  pursuit  to-morrow,  and  what  vices  are  to 
be  prevented  from  slipping  into  habits.  There  are  particular  times 
when,  by  the  providences  of  God,  we  are  especially  called  to  examine 
our  conduct,  which  are  not  periodical.  For  example,  if  the  hand  of 
sickness  has  been  laid  upon  you,  and  you  have  been  made  to  feel  your 
weakness  and  helplessness,  the  time  of  your  sickness  and  of  your  re- 
covery should  both  be  seasons  in  which  to  pause  and  hold  close  counsel 
with  your  heart.  If  you  change  places,  go  from  home,  or  go  to  a new 


e,i.  ,x.]  MBVjmv  torn  coNDVCt. 

institution  fof  study,  such  a change  affords  you  the  best  possible  op- 
portunity  to  examine  and'  see  what  habits,  what  moral  delinquencies 
you  ought  to  change  for  the  better,  what  have  been  the  rocks  ot 
temptation  on  which  you  have  split,  what  the  companions  who  have 
led  you  astray,  what  the  sins  you  have  fallen  into  which  would  grieve 
your  parents,  which  have  pierced  your  own  soul  with  sorrow,  and 
'which,  if  persisted  in,  will  eventually  destroy  you  for  any  service  m 
the  holy  kingdom  of  God.  These  changes  in  your  circumstances  ought 
'always  to  be  made  pausing  places,  at  Avhich  you  faithfully  review  all 
your  life,  and,  with  penitence  for  the  past,  and  new  resolutions,  set  out 
for  a better  life  in  future. 

But  these  are  not  the  periodical  times  which  I am  especially  urging. 
At  the  close  of  every  Sabbath,  you  should  make  a conscience  of  per- 
forming the  duty,  and  retire  and  review  the  week  which  is  now  past. 
It  is  a good  time.  You  have  had  the  soothing  rest  of  the  Sabbath, 
and  you  are  now  one  week  nearer  the  hour  of  dying,  and  the  hour  of 
being  iudged.  You  have  had  the  advantages  of  another  week;  now 
is  the  time  to  see  how  you  have  improved  them : you  have  had  another 
week  in  which  to  influence  others;  now  is  the  time  to  see  what  that 
influence  has  been:  you  have  had  the  responsibilities  of  forining  a 
acter,  under  the  highest  possible  advantages,  for  the  service  of  Grod, 
during  the  past  we^;  now  is  the  time  to  inquire  how  you  have  acted 
under  such  responsibilities.  Make  this  review  thorough,  and  be  sure 
not  to  omit  it  once.  If  you  allow  the  season  to  pass  you  without  this 
close  self-examination  you  will  be  likely  to  do  it  again  and  a^ain;  for 
there  is  no  duty  in  all  that  pertains  to  the  discipline  of  the  heart  so 
irksome  as  that  of  self-examination.  Some  will  say  that  they  had 
rather  their  friends  would  point  out  their  defects.  But  why  should 
you  be  hke  the  child  who  asks  for  a looking-glass  in  which  to  examine 
liis  hands,  to  see  if  they  need  washing?  No  doubt  it  is  more  agreeable 
to  have  a friend  to  do  this,  than  to  do  it  yourself;  and  for  the  obvious 
reason  that  you  will  see  a thousand  sins,  and  a thousand  vrong  mo- 
tives, which  his  eye  cannot  reach.  If  I may  be  allowed  to  suggest,  I 
know  of  no  one  thing,  aside  from  the  Bible,  so  useful  to  aid  in  examm- 
ino*  the  heart,  on  these  occasions,  as  Buck’s  Closet  Companion.  It  is 
clear,  brief,  and  to  the  point.  Every  question  is  searching;  and  he 
who  will  use  that  little  treatise  in  his  attempts  at  examining  his  heart 
on  the  evening  of  the  Sabbath,  will  not  long  fail  of  having  definite 
views  of  himself,  and  very  moderate  views  of  his  excellences.  Such  a 
season,  too,  is  exceedingly  well  fitted  to  close  the  Sabbath,  and  to 
fasten  upon  the  soul  those  sacred  impressions  for  which  that  day  is 
especially  designed. 


172 


REVIEW  YOUR  CONDUCT. 


[CH.  12^. 


It  has  been  said  by  some,  that  we  can  judge  of  the  bent  of  our  char- 
acters by  examining  every  morning  to  see  about  what  our  thoughts 
have  been  employed  during  the  night,  as  it  is  supposed  we  shall,  of 
course,  when  off  our  guard  during  sleep,  go  about  the  business  ’which 
we  should  like  best,  if  our  inclinations  might  be  followed.  There  may 
be  some  truth  in  this,  but  not  enough,  probably,  to  enable  you  to 
make  it  any  criterion  by  which  to  judge  of  your  character ; for  every 
student  knows  that  a noise  like  the  falling  of  a pair  of  tongs,  may  hurry 
him  away  to  the  field  of  battle;  a single  coverlet  too  much,  may  cause: 
him  to  groan  with  a mountain  upon  him;  and  a single  movement  of 
his  bed -fellow,  may  cause  him  to  commit  murder— in  his  sleep.  This 
much  is  generally  true ; that  if  you  have  a troubled  night,  you  have 
either  abused  the  body  by  eating  or  drinking  too  much,  or  tasked  the 
brain  by  too  great  a draught  upon  its  functions  at  a late  hour  at  night. 
Dreams  will  at  least  indicate  how  much  you  are  abusing  your  corporeal  ^ 
and  mental  powers. 

But  at  night — at  the  close  of  the  day,  when  you  have  passed  through 
the  day;  have  added  it  to  the  days  of  your  existence  on  earth;  when' 
its  hours  have  fled  to  the  judgment-seat  and  reported  all  your  doings, 
all  your  words  and  thoughts — the  day  which  must  inevitably  have 
more  or  less  effect  in  shaping  your  destiny  forever;  this  is  the  season  ; 
when  you  ought  to  review,  most  faithfully  and  most  strictly,  all  your  con- 
duct. You  may  not  at  once  see  the  advantages  of  doing  so;  but  they 
are  really  greater  than  language  can  describe.  You  will  find  duties ; 
omitted  during  the  day ; will  not  the  examination  lead  you  to  repent 
of  what  was  wrong,  and  to  avoid  it  to-morrow?  You  will  find  time 
wasted,  an  hour  here,  and  half  an  hour  there;  will  not  the  examina- 
tion do  you  good?  You  will  find  that  you  have  spoken  unadvisedly 
with  your  li]is — that  you  have  said  what  will  wound  the  sensibilities, 
either  natural  or  moral;  and  ought  you  not  to  know  of  these  instances? 
You  will  find  that  you  have  sinned  with  the  thoughts,  and  that  you 
have  spread  out  feelings  which  the  Divine  mind,  of  course,  must  retain 
forever,  and  which  were  vile ; will  it  not  do  you  good  to  recall  tliese^ 
instances?  Perhaps  you  have  made  one  effort  to  resist  temptation,  and 
to  do  your  duty;  and  it  will  cheer  you  to  recall  it.  To-morrow  you 
will  be  still  more  likely  to  be  successful.  Every  man,  at  night,  can  tell 
whether  he  has  made,  or  squandered,  or  lost,  property,  during  the  day ; 
and  so  every  one,  by  proper  care,  can  tell  whether  he  has  gone  back- 
ward or  forward  in  disciplining  his  heart,  at  the  close  of  every  day. 
He  who  passes  on  for  weeks  and  months  without  this  frequent  faithful 
review,  will  wonder,  at  the  end  of  these  long  periods,  why  he  has  not 
grown  in  moral  character,  and  why  he  has  no  more  confidence  in  his 


C'll.  lx.] 


BABIT  OF  BAIL  T PBA  TFB. 

hopes  for  the  future.  The  fact  is,  we  may  live,  and  be  heathen,  under 
the  full  light  of  the  Gospel,  and  perhaps,  too,  while  we  are  cherishing 
some  of  its  forms.  But  life  will  pass  from  you  while  you  are  making- 
good  resolutions,  and  hoping  to  do  better,  unless  you  bring  yourself  to 
account  daily ; and  when  death  shall  come  to  call  you  away,  you  will 
find  the  touching  and  affecting  language  of  the  dying  heathen  philoso- 
pher most  suitable  to  your  case : — J^cede  hunc  mundum  intrcmi,  anxius 
vivi^  perturbatus  egredior — Causa  causarum  miserere  mei^  “I  was  born 
polluted,  I have  spent  my  life  anxiously,  I die  with  trembling  solicitude 
— O thou  Cause  of  causes,  have  pity  on  me.”  The  pain  which  our 
deficiencies  and  sins  give  us  on  the  review  will  be  salutary,  desirable, 
and  necessary : and  it  is  at  a fearful  hazard  that  any  one  under  as  great 
responsibilities  as  those  under  which  we  are  placed,  ever  retires  to  rest 
without  such  a review  of  the  day  as  I am  recommending. 

8.  Be  in  the  habit  of  daily  prayer. 

Though  much  of  the  novelty  of  the  style  and  manner  of  Johnson  has 
passed  away,  yet  his  works  will  ever  bear  the  impress  of  a great  mind ; 
and  as  long  as  the  English  language  exists,  he  will  stand  high  in  the 
estimation  of  the  student.  Yet  Johnson,  as  far  as  he  was  from  en- 
thusiasm, is  found  making  use  of  an  humble  and  beautiful  form  of 
prayer  when  taking  his  pen  to  Avrite  a Avork,  Avhich  will  be  immortal. 
The  most  distinguished  authors — such,  I mean,  as  have  been  the  most 
Avidely  useful — have  ahvays  sought  the  blessing  of  God  upon  their 
studies.  Doddridge  used  to  obserA^e  frequently,  “that  he  neAW  ad- 
vanced well  in  human  learning  Avithout  prayer,  and  that  he  ahvays 
made  the  most  proficiency  in  his  studies  Avhen  he  prayed  Avith  the 
greatest  fervency.”  When  exposed  to  dangers  which  threaten  the 
body,  such  as  the  perils  of  a journey,  the  malignant  plague,  the  storm 
at  sea,  or  the  rockings  of  the  earthquake,  no  one  esteems  it  enthusiasm 
or  Aveakness  to  ask  aid  and  protection  from  God.  But  hoAV  many  feel, 
that,  Avhen  they  sit  down  to  study,  Avhen  they  are  tempted  to  go  astray 
in  a thousand  paths  of  error,  Avhen  liable  to  have  their  opinions,  vieAVS, 
plans,  habits,  all  the  traits  of  their  character,  Avrong,  they  liaA^e  no  need 
of  prayer ! The  very  heathen  felt  so  much  need  of  aid  in  their  mental 
researches,  that  they  seldom,  if  ever,  began  a study  or  a book,  Avithout 
invoking  the  aid  of  the  gods.  Surely  the  student  who  knoAvs  his  de- 
pendence upon  the  true  God,  and  who  knoAvs  hoAv  easily  the  mind  of 
man  is  throAvn  off  from  its  balance — how  important  it  is  that  the  mind 
be  clear,  and  all  its  po Avers  in  full  vigor — will  not  feel  that,  as  a student^ 
to  say  nothing  about  a higher  character  or  destiny,  he  can  do  his  duty 
to  himself  without  forming  and  cultivating  the  habit  of  daily  prayer. 

I knoAv  that  thousands,  when  pressed  on  this  point,  will  say  that 


in  MOBmWG  JSVmiJSTG  PBAYER  [ca. 

they  have  no  time — their  studies  are  so  pressing,  so  urgent,  that  they^ 
have  neither  the  time  nor  the  spirit  necessary  for  prayer.  I reply,  ^ 
that  it  will  not  hinder  your  studies.  On  the  contrary,  the  mind  will' 
be  calmed,  rested,  and  refreshed,  by  being  daily  turned  off  from  your 
studies  for  prayer.  Ask  any  distinguished  man,  who  has  ever  tried  j 
both  methods  of  study,  and  he  will  tell  you  that  he  has  been  prospered^ 
in  his  studies  in  proportion  to  his  faithfulness  in  performing  this  duty. 
What  shall  be  said  of  such  a man  as  Andrews,  who  was  such  a pro-  ^ 
ficient  in  study,  that  he  could  read  fifteen  different  languages,  and  yet  j 
never  spent  less  than  five  hours  daily  in  private  devotion  ? J 

You  will  find,  as  I trust,  the  following  hints  of  advantage  to  you  in 
the  performance  of  this  duty. 

1.  Ham  regular  hours  of  jjr ay er.  \ 

Habit,  in  regard  to  every  duty,  is  of  the  first  importance;  but  for  : 

none  is  it  more  important  than  in  regard  to  prayer.  You  cannot  walk  ^ 
and  lift  your  heart  to  God,  or  sit  in  your  room  and  do  it,  as  well  as  to 
be  retired.  The  direction  of  Christ,  to  enter  the  closet,  was  founded  ' 
on  the  philosophy  of  human  nature.  Have  particular  seasons,  and 
when  the  hour  arrives,  you  will  hail  it  as  that  which  is  the  most  pleas- 
ant in  the  whole  day.  The  return  of  the  hour  brings  to  mind  the  duty, 
which  might  otherwise  be  crowded  out  of  mind.  System  should  be 
rigidly  adhered  to,  in  this  duty,  for  the  sake  of  insuring  its  prompt  : 
performance,  and  especially  for  the  sake  of  enjoyment.  Ho  man  ever  ' 
enjoyed  his  religion  who  had  not  regular  seasons  devoted  to  prayer. 

2.  These  hours  should  he  in  the  morning  and  in  the  evening. 

In  the  morning  the  mind  is  calmed ; the  temptations  of  the  dav  have 
not  beset  you ; the  duties  of  the  day  have  not  filled  the  mind  and  begun  , 
to  vex  you.  Before  you  go  to  the  duties  of  the  day,  to  its  cares,  and  ■ 
anxieties,  and  temptations,  begin  the  day  with  prayer.  Temptations  ' 
you  certainly  will  meet;  trials  of  virtue  and  patience  will  overtake  ^ 
you;  and  many  times  before  night,  you  Avill  need  the  aid  of  your  : 
Father  to  shield  you.  Go  to  him,  and  ask  his  counsel  to  guide  you, 
his  poAAW  to  uphold  you,  his  presence  to  cheer  you,  his  Spirit  to 
sanctify  you.  Then  Avill  you  have  done  what  is  equivalent  to  half  the 
duties  of  the  day,  Avhen  you  have  thus  engaged  his  care  and  assistance. 
And  Avhen  the  evening  comes,  Avhen  you  have  done  Avith  the  duties  of 
the  day,  the  body  is  Avearied,  and  the  mind  is  jaded,  Avhen  the  Avorld  is 
shut  out  by  the  shades  of  night,  AA^hen  you  come  to  look  back  and  revieAV 
the  day,  Avhen  you  see  hoAV  many  deficiencies  haA^e  marked  the  day,  | 
hoAV  niany  imperfections  still  cluster  around  you,  how  many  sins  stare  : 
you  in  the  face,  how  little  you  have  done  for  yourself  or  for  others,  or  ^ 
for  God,  the  day  past,  then — is  the  hour  of  prayer.  It  Avill  be  sweet  to  ■ 


CH.  IX.] 


KEEP  A CLEAR  CONSCIENCE. 


175 


feel  that  you  have  one  to  whom  you  can  go,  and  who  will  hear  you; 
one  who  will  forgive  you,  if  you  are  penitent,  and  ask  in  the  name  of 
Jesus  Christ;  one  who  will  accept  your  evening  sacrifice,  and  give  you 
strength  for  the  morrow,  and  gird  you  with  his  own  righteousness. 
This  hour,  if  rightly  improved,  will  be  like  the  cheering  countenance 
of  a most  beloved  friend.  Take  care  that  nothing  comes  between  you 
and  these  hours  devoted  to  God.  ‘ ‘ Think  of  Daniel,  prime  minister 
of  Persia,  with  the  affairs  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  proGnces  resting 
on  his  mind,  yet  finding  time  to  go  ‘ into  his  chamber,  three  times  a 
day,  that  he  might  pray  and  give  thanks  to  God.  ’ Think  of  Alfred, 
with  the  cares  of  monarchy ; of  Luther,  buffeted  by  the  storms  of 
Papal  wrath;  of  Thornton,  encompassed  with  a thousand  mercantile 
engagements,  yet  never  allowing  the  hurry  of  business  to  intrude  on 
their  regular  hours  of  devotion.” 

3.  Keejj)  your  conscience  mid  of  offence  in  oilier  respects.,  if  you  tcould 
enjoy  prayer. 

It  you  are  aware  of  any  sin,  be  it  what  it  may,  in  which  you  allov*^ 
yourself,  you  may  be  sure  that  will  ruin  your  devotional  hours.  Either 
that,  or  communion  with  God,  must  be  relinquished,  and  certainly  will 
be.  If  you  do  not  keep  the  Sabbath;  if  you  are  light  and  foolish  in 
conversation,  jealous  and  censorious  upon  others,  or  given  to  the  indul- 
gence of  vile  thoughts  and  practices  in  secret,  you  cannot  welcome  the 
hour  of  prayer. 

It  may  seem  strange  to  some  of  my  readers,  that  I urge  this  duty 
upon  them,  when  they  do  not  profess  to  be  Christians,  or  religious 
people.  But  am  I to  blame,  if  they  do  not  even  profess  to  wish  to 
obey  and  honor  their  God?  Are  they  in  any  way  above  the  reach  of 
want,  so  that  they  need  not  prayer?  What  if  you  have  no  relish  for 
prayer ; will  neglecting  the  duty  cultivate,  or  even  create  such  a relish  ? 
If  you  have  lived  so  long  under  the  government  of  God,  under  all  the 
advantages  Avhich  you  have  enjoyed,  under  all  the  responsibilities 
which  have  been  resting  upon  you,  and  still  are  living  without  prayer, 
are  you  in  the  path  of  duty  to  plead  this  neglect  of  prayer,  as  a reason 
why  it  should  not  be  urged  upon  you?  Shall  I be  a faithful  friend  to 
admit  this  excuse,  and  to  allow  that,  because  you  have  so  long  tried 
to  escape  the  ej^e  of  God,  and  have  neither  thanked  him  for  his  mercies 
nor  asked  him  for  his  goodness,  neither  sought  his  friendship  nor  de- 
precated his  displeasure,  you  ought  still  to  be  left,  and  no  warning 
voice  reach  you?  ISTo.  And  if  you  urge  that  you  have  not  been  in  the 
habit  of  prayer,  I assure  you  that  you  are  inexcusable ; that  you  are 
losing  great  peace  of  mind,  and  daily  satisfaction  in  laying  all  your 
wants  and  trials  before  Him  who  can  relieve  them:  you  are  losing  those 


176 


ASSISTAJSrCE  OF  HOLT  SPIRIT. 


[CH,  IX 


great  principles  which  make  character  good,  great,  and  stable,  and  you 
are  losing  opportunities  which  are  passing  away  rapidly,  and  whose 
misimproveinent  will  hereafter  bring  down  great  anguish  upon  you. 

4.  Offer  your  prayers  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ. 

He  is  the  only  Mediator  between  God  and  man.  He  it  is  who  sits 
with  the  golden  censer  in  his  right  hand,  and  who  ever  lives  to  inter- 
cede for  us.  He  is  a great  and  a merciful  High  Priest,  who  can  be 
touched  with  a feeling  of  our  infirmities.  We  have  no  righteousness 
of  our  own ; we  can  have  no  confidence  in  offering  prayer  in  our  own 
names.  But  he  who  has  most  of  the  spirit  of  Christ ; who  comes  near 
to  him  in  his  contemplations  and  devotions;  who  has  the  most  exalted 
views  of  the  Kedeemer,  and  the  most  abased  views  of  himself,  will 
enjoy  most  at  the  throne  of  grace.  Your  ])rayers  will  be  cold  unless 
they  go  from  a lieart  warmed  by  his  love.  Your  petitions  will  not 
be  fervent  unless  you  feel  your  need  of  an  Almighty  Saviour.  The 
songs  wliich  are  the  loudest  and  sweetest  in  heaven,  we  are  told,  are 
kindled  by  the  exhibitions  which  he  has  made  of  what  he  has  done  for 


5.  A sic  the  assistance  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

AYhen  God  directs  us  to  pray,  it  is  not  that  he  may  sit  at  a distance, 
and  in  the  coldness  of  a sovereign  monarch,  hear  our  prayers,  and  re- 
ceive our  homage;  but  it  is  that  we  may  draw  ourselves  near  to  him, 
as  one  in  a boat,  with  a boat-hook,  would  not  draw  the  shore  to  the 
boat,  but  the  boat  to  the  shore.  His  promise  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
those  who  ask  him,  was  sincere;  and  no  gift  can  be  compared  to  this. 
All  that  is  done  for  man  in  the  way  of  calling  his  attention  to  eternal 
things,  sanctifying  the  heart,  and  preparing  the  soul  for  the  service  of 
God  here  and  hereafter,  is  done  by  the  Holy  Spirit  as  the  agent. 
Solemn  warnings  are  given  in  the  Bible,  lest  we  should  abuse  this  last, 
best  gift  of  heaven.  He  is  the  Sanctifier  to  ])urify  your  heart,  the 
Comforter  to  sustain  and  cheer  in  life  and  in  death.  Ask  his  assistance 
and  you  \^ill  be  shielded  from  temptation,  trained  for  usefulness  here, 
enlightened  in  your  views,  expansive  in  your  feelings,  pure  in  your 
aims,  contented  in  your  circumstances,  peaceful  in  your  death,  and 
glorious  in  immortality  beyond  the  grave. 


CH.  X.] 


OBJECT  OF  LIFE. 


177 


X. 

THE  OBJECT  OF  LIFE. 

How  many  beautiful  visions  pass  before  the  mind  in  a single  day, 
when  the  reins  are  thrown  loose,  and  fancy  feels  no  restraints ! How 
curious,  interesting,  and  instructive  Avould  be  the  history  of  the  ^vork- 
ings  of  a single  mind  for  a day!  How  many  imaginary  joys,  how 
many  airy  castles,  pass  before  it,  which  a single  jostle  of  this  rough 
world  at  once  destroys!  who  is  there  of  my  readers  who  has  not  im- 
agined a summer  fairer  than  ever  bloomed,  scenery  in  nature  more 
perfect  than  was  ever  combined  by  the  pencil,  abodes  more  beautiful 
than  were  ever  reared,  honors  more  distinguished  than  were  ever  be- 
stowed, homes  more  peaceful  than  were  ever  enjoyed,  companions  more 
angelic  than  ever  walked  this  earth,  and  bliss  more  complete,  and  joys 
more  thrilling,  than  were  ever  allotted  to  man?  You  may  call  these 
the  dreams  of  the  imagination,  but  they  are  common  to  the  student. 
To  the  man  who  lives  for  this  world  alone,  these  visions  of  bliss,  poor 
as  they  are,  are  all  that  ever  come.  But  good  men  have  their  antici- 
pations— not  the  paintings  of  fancy  but  the  realities  which  faith  dis- 
covers. Good  men  have  the  most  vivid  conceptions.  Witness  those 
of  old.  As  they  look  down  the  vale  of  time  they  see  a star  arise — the 
everlasting  hills  do  bow,  the  valleys  are  raised,  and  the  moon  puts  on 
the  brightness  of  the  sun.  The  deserts  and  the  dry  places  gush  with 
waters.  IS’ature  pauses.  The  serpent  forgets  his  fangs;  the  lion  and 
the  lamb  sleep  side  by  side,  and  the  hand  of  the  child  is  on  the  mane  of 
the  tiger.  I^ations  gaze  till  they  forget  the  murderous  work  of  war, 
and  the  garments  rolled  in  blood.  The  whole  earth  is  enlightened, 
and  the  star  shines  on  it  till  it  brings  in  everlasting  day.  Here  are 
glowing  conceptions,  but  they  are  not  the  work  of  a depraved  imagina- 
tion. They  will  all  be  realized.  Sin  and  death  will  long  walk  hand 
in  hand  on  this  earth,  and  their  footsteps  will  not  be  entirely  blotted 
out  .till  the  fires  of  the  last  day  have  melted  the  globe.  But  the  head 
of  the  one  is  already  bruised,  and  the  sting  is  already  taken  from  the 
other.  They  may  long  roar,  but  they  walk  in  chains,  and  the  eye  of 
faith  sees  the  hand  that  holds  the  chains. 

But  we  have  visions  still  brighter.  AYe  look  for  new  heavens  and 
a new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.  'No  sin  will  be  there  to 
mar  the  beauty,  no  sorrow  to  diminish  the  joy,  no  anxiety  to  corrode 


178 


EXAMPLES. 


[CH.  X.^ 

the  heart  or  cloud  the  brow.  Our  characters  may  be  tested,  in  part,  ' 
by  our  anticipations.  If  our  thoughts  and  feelings  are  running  in  the 
channel  of  time,  and  dancing  from  one  earthly  bubble  to  another, 
though  our  hopes  may  come  in  angel-robes,  it  is  a sad  proof  that  our 
hearts  are  here  also. 

Is  there  anything  of  weakness  in  these  hopes  of  good  men?  Are 
we  not  continually  seeking  rest  for  the  soul?  A few  years  ago,  a youth 
went  up  to  the  mast-head  of  a large  whale  ship,  and  there  sat  down- to 
think.  He  was  the  only  child  of  his  mother,  and  she  a widow.  He 
had  left  her  against  her  wishes  and  remonstrances,  her  prayers  and 
tears.  He  had  for  many  years  been  roaming  over  the  seas,  and  was  now  3 
returning  home.  He  was  thinking  of  the  scenes  of  his  childhood — all  | 
the  anxious  hours  which  he  had  cost  that  mother — all  the  disobedience 
on  his  part,  and  that  love  on  hers  which  no  waters  could  quench.  | 
Would  she  be  sleeping  in  the  grave  when  he  once  ^ more  came  to  her  | 
door?  Does  his  home  still  look  as  it  used  to? — the  tree,  the  brook,  the  1 
pond,  the  fields,  the  grove, — are  they  all  as  he  left  them?  And  his  | 
mother — would  she  receive  him  to  her  heart,  or  would  she  be  sleeping  | 
in  death?  Would  she  recognize  her  long-absent  boy,  and  forgive  all  | 
his  past  ingratitude,  and  still  love  him  with  the  unquenchable  love  of  j 
a mother?  And  may  he  again  liave  a home,  and  no  more  wander  j 
among  strangers?  The  ])ressure  of  these  thoughts  was  too  much.  He  | 
wept  at  the  remembrance  of  his  undutifulness.  Troubles  and  hard-  \ 
ships  did  not  break  his  spirit,  did  not  subdue  his  proud  heart;  but  the  | 
thoughts  of  home,  of  rest,  of  going  out  no  more,  suffering  no  more,  1 
engrossing  the  love  of  a kind  parent,  melted  him.  Is  not  this  human 
nature?  And  is  it  weakness  in  a good  man  to  rejoice  at  the  thought  of  1 
that  day,  when  death  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  victory?  when  the  Lord 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears,  and  take  away  the  rebuke  of  his  people,  ■ 
that  they  may  be  glad  and  rejoice  in  his  salvation?  “I  am  going,”  ^ 
said  the  great  Hooker,  “to  leave  a world  disordered,  and  a church  : 
disorganized,  for  a world  and  a church  where  every  angel,  and  every  : 
rank  of  angels,  stand  before  the  throne  in  the  very  post  God  has  as-  ^ 
signed  them.  ’ ’ : 

The  world,  the  great  mass  of  mankind,  have  utterly  misunderstood  ■ 
the  real  object  of  life  on  earth,  or  else  he  misunderstands  it  who.  fol- 
lows the  light  of  the  Bible.  You  look  at  men  as  individuals,  and  their 
object  seems  to  be  to  gratify  a contemptible  vanity,  to  pervert  and 
follow  their  low  appetites  and  passions,  and  the  dictates  of  selfishness 
wherever  they  may  lead.  You  look  at  men  in  the  aggregate,  and  this 
pride  and  these  passions  terminate  in  wide  plans  of  ambition,  in  war 
and  bloodshed,  in  strifes  and  the  destruction  of  all  that  is  virtuous  or 


JSXAMPLES. 


179 


I Ofl.  X.] 

lovely.  The  history  of  mankind  has  its  pages  all  stained  with  blood ; 
and  it  is  the  history  of  a race  whose  object  seemed  to  be,  to  debase 
their  powers,  and  sink  what  was  intended  for  immortal  glory,  to  the 
deepest  degradation  which  sin  can  cause.  At  one  time,  you  will  see 
an  army  of  five  millions  of  men  following  a leader,  who,  to  add  to  his 
poor  renown,  is  now  to  jeopardize  all  these  lives,  and  the  peace  of  his 
whole  kingdom.  This  multitude  of  minds  fall  in,  and  they  live,  and 
march,  and  fight,  and  perish,  to  aid  in  exalting  a poor  worm  of  the 
dust.  What  capacities  were  here  assembled!  What  minds  were  here 
put  in  motion  1 What  a scene  of  struggles  was  here ! and  who,  of  all 
this  multitude,  were  pursuing  the  real  object  of  life.  From  Xerxes,  at 
their  head,  to  the  lowest  and  most  debased  in  the  rear  of  the  army, 
was  there  one,  who,  when  weighed  in  the  balances  of  eternal  truth, 
was  fulfilling  the  object  for  which  he  was  created,  and  for  which  life  is 
continued?  Look  again.  All  Europe  rises  up  in  a frenzy,  and  pours 
forth  a living  tide  toward  the  Holy  Land.  They  muster  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  The  cross  waves  on  their  banners,  and  the  holy 
sepulcher  is  the  watchword  by  day  and  night.  They  move  eastward, 
and  whiten  the  burning  sands  of  the  deserts  with  their  bleaching 
bones.  But  of  all  these,  from  the  fanatic  whose  voice  awoke  Europe 
to  arms,  down  to  the  lowest  horse-boy,  how  few  were  actuated  by 
any  spirit  which  Heaven,  or  justice,  to  say  nothing  about  love,  could 
sanction ! Suppose  the  same  number  of  men,  the  millions  which  com- 
posed the  continent  which  arose  up  to  exterminate  another,  and  who 
followed  the  man  who  was  first  a soldier,  and  then  a priest  and  hermit, 
and  who  has  left  the  world  in  doubt  whether  lie  was  a prophet,  a mad- 
man, a fool,  or  a demagogue,  had  spent  the  same  treasures  of  life,  and 
of  money,  in  trying  to  spread  the  spirit  of  that  Saviour  for  whose  tomb 
they  could  waste  so  much ; and  suppose  this  army  had  been  enlightened 
and  sanctified  men,  and  had  devoted  their  powers  to  do  good  to  man- 
kind, and  to  honor  their  God,  how  different  would  the  world  have  been 
found  to-day!  LIow  many,  think  you,  of  all  the  then  Christian  world, 
acted  under  a spirit,  and  with  an  object  before  them  such  as  the  world 
will  approve,  and  especially  such  as  the  pure  beings  above  us  will  ap- 
prove ? 

Look  a moment  at  a few  of  the  efforts  which  avarice  has  made.  For 
about  four  centuries,  the  avarice  of  man,  and  of  Christian  men  too, 
has  been  preying  upon  the  vitals  of  Africa.  It  has  taken  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  Ham,  and  doomed  soul  and  body  to  debasement,  to  igno- 
rance, to  slavery.  And  what  are  the  results?  Twenty-eight  millions 
— about  one  third  of  the  population  of  this  country — have  been  kidnap- 
ped and  carried  away  from  the  land  of  their  birth.  The  estimate  is, 


180  UNIVERSAL  ABUSE  OF  MINE.  [CH.  t..  | 

that  the  increase  in  the  house  of  bondage  since  those  times  is  five-fold,  | 
or  nearly  one  hundred  and  seventy  millions  of  human,  immortal  beings,  i 
cut  off  from  the  rights  of  man,  and,  by  legislation  and  planning,  re^  1 
duced  far  toward  the  scale  of  the  brutes.  This  is  only  a single  form  in  ^ 
which  avarice  has  been  exerting  its  power.  Suppose  the  same  time  | 
and  money,  the  same  effort,  had  been  spent  in  spreading  the  arts  of  | 
civilization,  learning,  and  religion,  over  the  continent  of  Africa,  what  | 
a vast  amount  of  good  would  have  been  accomplished ! And  at  the  ^ 
day  when  the  recording  angel  reads  the  history  of  the  earth,  how  very  'i 
diferent  would  be  the  picture,  and  the  eternal  condition  of  untold  | 
numbers ! If  the  marks  of  humanity  are  not  all  blotted  out  from  that 
race  of  miserable  men,  it  is  not  because  oppression  has  not  been  suffi-  , 
ciently  legalized,  and  avarice  been  allowed  to  pursue  its  victims,  till,  v 
the  grave  became  a sweet  asylum.  's 

I am  trying  to  lead  you  to  look  at  the  great  amount  of  abuse,  and  of 
perversion  of  mind,  of  which  mankind  are  constantly  guilty.  When  ■ 
Christianity  began  her  glorious  career,  the  world  had  exhausted  its  * 
strength  in  trying  to  debase  itself,  and  to  sink  low  enough  to  embrace  :i 
paganism ; and  yet  not  so  low,  as  not  to  try  to  exist  in  the  shape  of  i 
nations.  The  experiment  had  been  repeated,  times  we  know  not  how  I 
many.  Egypt,  Babylonia,  Persia,  polished  Greece,  iron-footed  Rome,  < 
mystical  Hindooism,  had  all  tried  it.  They  spent,  each,  mind  enough  ^ 
to  regenerate  a nation,  in  trying  to  build  up  a system  of  corrupt  pa-  j 
ganism ; and  when  that  system  was  built  up — let  the  shape  and  form  3 
be  what  it  might — the  nation  had  exhausted  its  energies,  and  it  sunk  J 
and  fell  under  the  effects  of  misapplied  and  perverted  mind.  hTo  nation 
existed  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  which  was  not  crumbling  under  the  use  ^ 
of  its  perverted  energies,  when  the  Gospel  reached  it.  Our  ancestors  ; 
were  crushed  under  the  weight  of  a Druidical  priesthood,  and  the  rites  - 
of  that  bloody  system  of  religion. 

Another  striking  instance  of  the  perversion  of  mind,  and  the  abuse 
of  the  human  intellect  and  heart,  is  the  system  of  the  Romish  Church. 
IsTo  one  created  mind,  apparently,  could  ever  have  invented  a scheme 
of  delusion,  of  degradation  of  the  soul,  the  intellect,  the  whole  man,  so  \ 
perfect  and  complete  as  is  this.  What  minds  must  have  been  employed 
in  shutting  out  the  light  of  heaven,  and  in  burying  the  manna,  which 
fell  in  showers  so  extended ! What  a system ! To  gather  all  the  books  . 
in  the  world,  and  put  them  all  within  the  stone  walls  of  the  monastery 
and  the  cloister,  to  crush  schools,  except  in  these  same  monasteries,  in 
which  they  trained  up  men  to  become  more  and  more  skillful  in  doing 
the  work  of  ruin,  to  delude  the  world  with  ceremonies  and  fooleries, 
while  the  Bible  was  taken  away ; and  Religion  muttered  her  rites  in  an 


Ch.  5c.] 


UNIVERSAL  ABUSE  OF  MINE. 


181 


unknown  tongue,  and  all  this  the  result  of  a settled  plan  to  debase  the 
intellect  and  mock  poor  human  nature!  And,  when  the  Eeformation 
held  up  all  these  abominations  to  light,  what  a masterpiece  was  the 
last  plan  laid  to  stifle  the  reason  forever!— the  Incpisition.  It  was 
reared  through  the  Christian  world : the  decree,  by  a single  blow,  pro- 
scribed between  sixty  and  seventy  printing-presses,  and  excommunicated 
all  who  should  ever  read  anything  which  they  might  produce.  A phil- 
osopher who,  like  Galileo,  could  pour  light  upon  science,  and  astonish 
the  world  by  his  discoveries,  must  repeatedly  fall  into  the  cruel  mercies 
of  the  Inquisition.  The  ingenuity  of  hell  seemed  tasked  to  invent 
methods  by  which  the  human  mind  might  be  shut  up  in  Egyptian 
darkness ; and  never  has  a Catholic  community  been  known  to  be  other 
than  degraded,  ignorant,  superstitious,  and  sunken.  Let  light  in,  and 
all  who  receive  it  rush  to  infidelity.  But  Avhat  a mass  of  mind  has 
been,  and  still  is,  employed  in  upholding  this  system!  and  what  a loss 
to  the  world  has  it  produced,  in  quenching,  in  everlasting  darkness, 
the  uncounted  millions  of  glorious  minds  which  have  been  destroyed 
by  it ! If  I could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  anathematize  any  order  of 
men — and  I hope  I cannot — it  would  be  those  who  are  thus  taking 
away  the  key  of  knowledge,  and  preventing  all  within  the  compass  of 
their  influence  from  fulfilling  the  great  object  for  which  they  were 
created. 

Was  man  created  for  war?  Did  his  Maker  create  the  eye,  that  he 
might  take  better  aim  on  the  field  of  battle?  give  him  skill,  that  he 
might  invent  methods  of  slaying  by  thousands  ? and  plant  a thirst  in 
the  soul,  that  it  might  be  quenched  by  the  blood  of  man?  What  sci- 
ence or  art  can  boast  of  more  precision,  of  more  to  teach  it,  to  hail  it 
with  enthusiasm,  and  to  celebrate  it  in  song?  Genius  has  ever  sat  at 
the  feet  of  Mars,  and  exhausted  his  efforts  in  preparing  exquisite  offer- 
ings. Human  thought  has  never  made  such  gigantic  efforts  as  when 
employed  in  scenes  of  butchery.  Has  Skill  ever  been  more  active  and 
successful — has  Poetry  ever  so  kindled,  as  when  the  flames  of  Troy 
lighted  her  page?  What  school- boy  is  ignorant  of  the  battle  ground, 
and  the  field  of  blood,  where  ancient  and  modern  armies  met  and  tried 
to  crush  each  other?  Has  Music  ever  thrilled  like  that  which  led  men 
to  battle,  and  the  plume  of  the  desert  bird  ever  danced  so  gracefully  as 
when  on  the  head  of  the  warrior?  Are  any  honors  so  freely  bestowed, 
or  cheaply  purchased,  as  those  which  are  gained  by  a few  hours  of 
fighting.  See  that  man,  who,  so  late,  was  the  wonder  of  the  w^orld, 
calling  out,  marshaling,  employing  and  wasting  almost  all  the  treas- 
ures of  Europe,  for  twelve  or  fifteen  years.  What  multitudes  of  minds 
did  he  caU  to  the  murderous  work  of  war! — minds  that  might  have 


182 


trisirERSAL' ABUSE  or  mine. 


tctt.X.  1 

blessed  the  world  with  literature,  with  science,  with  schools,  and  with  j 
the  gospel  of  peace,  had  they  not  been  perverted  from  the  great  and 
best  object  of  living!  Says  a philosophical  writer,  speaking  on  this  i 
subject,  “I  might  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  illustration,  that  all  the  J 
schemes  of  ambition,  and  ciaielty,  and  intrigue,  were  blotted  from  the  - 
page  of  history ; that,  against  the  names  of  the  splendid  and  guilty  ■ 
actors,  whom  the  world  for  ages  has  wondered  at,  there  were  Avritten 
achievements  of  Christian  benevolence,  equally  grand  and  character-  ^ 
istic ; and  then  ask  Avhat  a change  would  there  be  in  the  scenes  which  | 
the  world  has  beheld  transacted,  and  what  a difference  in  the  results ! j 
Alexander  should  have  won  victories  in  Persia  more  splendid  than  1 
those  of  Granicus  and  Arbela;  he  should  have  wandered  over  India,  rl 
like  Buchanan,  and  wept  for  another  world  to  bring  under  the  do-  ' 
minion  of  the  Saviour ; and,  returning  to  Babjdon,  should  have  died,  like  ; 
Martyn,  the  victim  of  Christian  zeal.  Caesar  should  have  made  Gaul  ^ 
and  Britain  obedient  to  the  faith,  and,  crossing  the  Rubicon  Avith  his  ’ 
apostolic  legions,  and  maldng  the  Romans  freemen  of  the  Lord,  should  I 
have  been  the  forerunner  of  Paul,  and  done  half  his  Avork.  Charle-  ' 
magne  should  have  been  a Luther.  Charles  of  Sweden  should  haA^e  ^ 
been  a HoAvard;  and,  flying  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Euxine,  like  an  ^ 
angel  of  mercy,  should  have  fallen,  Avhen  on  some  errand  of  love,  and  i 
numbering  his  days  by  the  good  deeds  he  had  done,  should  have  died  | 
like  Mills  in  an  old  age  of  charity.  Voltaire,  should  have  Avritten  3 
Christian  tracts.  Rousseau  should  have  been  a Fenelon.  Hume  | 
should  have  unraveled  the  intricacies  of  theology,  and  defended,  like  ^ 
Edwards,  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.”  : 

We  call  ours  the  most  enlightened  nation  on  earth,  inferior  to  none  ■ 
in  oAvning  the  spirit  of  Christianity ; and  Ave  claim  this  as  an  age  be-  ‘ 
hind  none  eA^er  enjoyed,  for  high  moral  principle,  and  beneA’'olent  dis-  ' 
interested  action.  But  what  is  this  principle  in  the  great  mass  of  : 
mankind ! When  clouds  gather  in  the  political  horizon,  and  Avar  ] 
threatens  a nation,  hoAV  are  the  omens  received?  How  many  are  there  j 
Avho  turn  aside  and  Aveep,  and  deprecate  the  guilt,  the  woe,  and  the  . 
indescribable  evils  and  miseries  of  war?  The  great  majority  of  the  ; 
nation  feel  that  the  path  of  glory  is  noAV  opening  before  them,  and  that  ■ 
the  honor  Avhich  may  possibly  be  attained  by  a feAV  bloody  battles,  is  ; 
ample  compensation  for  the  expense,  the  morals,  the  lives,  and  the  ‘ 
happiness,  Avhich  mvst  be  sacrificed  for  the  possibility.  Let  that  nation 
rush  to  war  for  some  supposed  point  of  honor.  Watch  the  population 
as  they  collect,  group  after  group,  under  the  burning  suu,  all  anxious,  ^ 
all  eager,  and  all  standing  as  if  in  deep  expectation  for  the  signal  which 
was  to  call  them  to  judgment.  They  are  Avaiting  for  the  first  tidings  ; 


cir.  X.] 


UNIVERSAL  ABUSE  OF  MIND. 


183 


of  the  battle,  where  the  honor  of  the  nation  is  staked.  ITo  tidings 
that  ever  came  from  Heaven  can  send  a thrill  of  joy  so  deep  as  the 
tidings  that  one  ship  has  conquered  or  sunk  another. 

Was  it  anything  remarkable,  that,  in  the  very  heart  of  a Christian 
nation,  a single  horse-race  brought  over  fifty-thousand  people  together? 
Were  they  acting  so  much  out  of  the  character  of  the  mass  of  mankind 
as  to  cause  it  to  make  any  deep  impression  upon  the  moral  sensibilities 
of  the  nation  ? 

Suppose  it  were  known  that  a mind  was  now  in  process  of  training, 
which  might,  if  its  powers  were  properly  directed,  be  equal  to  Milton 
or  Locke;  but  that,  instead  of  this,  it  will  waste  its  powers  in  creating 
such  song  as  Byron  wrote,  or  in  weaving  such  webs  as  the  schoolmen 
wove.  Would  the  knowledge  of  such  a waste  of  mind,  such  perver- 
sion of  powers,  cause  a deep  sensation  of  regret  among  men  ? or  have 
such  perversions  been  so  common  in  the  world  that  one  such  magnifi- 
cent mind  might  be  lost  to  mankind,  and  no  one  would  mourn?  The 
answer  is  plain.  The  world  has  become  so  accustomed  to  seeing  mind 
prostituted  to  ignoble  purposes,  and  influence  which  might  reach  round 
the  globe  like  a zone  of  mercy  thrown  away  forever,  that  we  hardly 
think  of  it  as  greatly  out  of  the  way. 

A generation  of  men  come  on  the  stage  of  action ; they  find  the  world 
in  darkness,  in  ignorance,  and  in  sin.  They  live,  gain  the  few  honors 
which  are  easily  plucked,  gather  the  little  wealth  which  toil  and  anxiety 
will  bestow,  and  then  pass  away.  As  a whole,  the  generation  do  not 
expect  or  try  to  throw  an  influence  upon  the  world  Avhich  shall  be 
redeeming.  They  do  not  expect  to  leave  the  world  materially  better 
than  they  found  it.  Why  do  we  not  mourn  that  such  myriads  of  im- 
mortal minds  are  destined  to  pass  away,  and  never  to  break  out  in  acts 
of  mercy  and  kindness  to  the  world  ? Because  we  have  so  long  been  so 
prodigal  of  mind,  that  we  hardly  notice  its  loss. 

For  thousands  of  years  the  world  has  slept  in  ignorance,  or  groped^ 
in  utter  darkness.  Hations  have  come  up,  and  bowed  and  worshiped 
the  sun,  or  wood,  or  brass,  stone,  or  reptile,  and  then  have  passed 
away.  The  heart  of  man  has  been  broken  by  vain  superstitions,  by 
cruelties,  vileness,  under  the  name  of  religion,  and,  aside  from  the 
Bible,  we  see  no  hope  that  it  will  be  otherwise,  for  as  long  a period  to 
come.  But  does  this  immense  waste,  this  immeasurable  loss,  for  time 
and  eternity,  trouble  mankind?  Is  the  world  at  work  for  its  redemp- 
tion and  disenthraUment ? By  no  means!  A small  portion  of  the 
Christian  world  alone  have  even  looked  at  it  with  any  interest.  This 
small  part  are  making  some  efforts.  They  are  taking  the  Gospel  of 
God,  and  with  it  carrying  the  arts  of  civilization,  the  fight  of  schools, 


184 


EFFECTS  OF  THE  GOSPEL, 


[CH.  X. 


I the  sacredness  of  the  Sabbath,  and  the  influences  and  hopes  of  immor- 
; tality,  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  But  how  are  these  labors  esteemed 
by  the  mass  of  society  ? Where  is  the  sympathy  for  the  solitary  mis- 
sionary of  the  cross,  as  he  takes  his  life  in  his  hand,  and  goes  to  the 
dark  places  of  the  earth,  full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty?  The  world 
laughs  at  the  idea  that  the  world  can  be  recovered ; and,  though  lions 
and  tigers  are  constantly  tamed,  and  the  deadly  serpent  is  charmed, 
yet  there  is  no  faith  that  the  moral  character  of  man  is  ever  to  be  any 
better.  The  schemes  of  the  missionary  are  fanatical,  the  Bible  is 
powerless  as  the  cold  philosophy  of  the  world,  and  preaching  has  no 
power  but  that  which  depends  upon  the  eloquence  of  the  tongue  which 
utters  it.  But  the  question  is, — How  do  you  account  for  it,  that  the 
community  at  large  so  coolly  make  up  their  minds,  that  the  world  can 
never  be  any  better,  and  each  one  goes  about  his  business,  as  if  it  were 
all  of  no  sort  of  consequence?  I account  for  it,  by  saying  that  man- 
kind are  supremely  selfish ; so  much  so,  that  the  situation  of  a Avorld 
\ lying  in  wickedness,  does  not  move  them — that  the  great  majority  of 
men  always  have,  and  do  still,  mistake  the  true  object  of  life. 

“Nothing  in  man  is  great,  but  so  far  as  it  is  connected  with  God. 
The  only  wise  thing  recorded  of  Xerxes  is  his  reflection  on  the  sight  of 
his  army,  that  not  one  of  that  immense  multitude  would  survive  a 
hundred  years.  It  seems  to  have  been  a momentary  gleam  of  true 
light  and  feeling.  The  history  of  all  the  great  characters  of  the  Bible 
is  summed  up  in  this  one  sentence — they  acquainted  themselves  with 
God,  and  acquiesced  in  his  will  in  all  things;”  and  no  other  characters 
can  be  called  great,  with  any  propriety. 

Look  at  individuals.  You  Avalk  down  on  the  Avharf  of  one  of  our 
large  cities.  You  notice  a man  by  himself ,>^!lone/  He  Avalks  Avith  a 
quick,  feverish  step,  backAvard  and  forAvard,  and,  every  feAv  moments, 
looks  aAA^ay  at  that  dark  speck,  far  off  on  the  “dark  blue  sea.”  He  is 
Availing  for  that  ship  to  loom  up,  that  he  may  see  his  own  flag  at  mast- 
head. For  nearly  three  years  she  has  been  gone,  and  comes  home  noAv, 
probably,  richly  freighted.  During  all  this  time,  he  has  followed  her 
in  his  thoughts,  day  and  night : Avhen  it  Avas  dark — when  the  storm 
rushed — Avhen  the  Avinds  moaned — he  thought  of  his  ship;  and  not  for 
a single  waking  hour  at  a time  has  that  ship’s  image  been  out  of  his 
mind.  His  whole  soul  Avent  with  her;  and  yet,  all  this  time,  he  neA^er 
lifted  a prayer  to  Him  Avho  holds  the  winds  and  the  AA-aves  in  his  hands; 
and  even  now,  when  his  heart  is  swelling  Avith  hopes  that  are  realized, 
still  he  thinks  not  of  raising  a breath  in  thanksgiving  to  his  God ; thinks 
of  no  acts  of  mercy  Avhich  he  will  perform ; feels  no  accountability  for 


an.  X.]  SELFlsm^S^.  185 

his  property.  Is  such  a man,  living  for  property  alone,  pursuing  the 
real  object  of  life? 

Look  at  another  man.  He  is  walking  his  closet : his  brow  is  con- 
tracted; his  countenance  faded  ; his  eye  sunken,  and  he  is  full  of 
troubled  anxiety.  He  looks  out  of  his  window  for  his  messenger,  and 
then  sinks  down  in  deep  thought.  It  would  seem  as  if  nothing  less 
than  the  salvation  of  his  soul  could  cause  such  an  anxiety.  He  is  a 
cunning  statesman,  a crafty  politic#an,  and  is  now  waiting  to  learn  the 
result  of  a new  scheme,  which  he  is  now  executing,  with  the  hope  that 
it  may  aid  him  in  climbing  the  ladder  of  ambition.  He  eyes  every 
movement  in  the  community,  watches  every  change,  and  carries  a solic- 
itude which,  at  times,  must  be  agonizing.  There  are  thousands  of 
such  minds,  trying  to  make  men  their  tools,  regardless  of  means  or 
measures,  provided  they  can  fulfill  their  great  desire — exalt  themselves. 
Are  such  men  pursuing  the  real  object  of  life? 

Look  again. — There  is  a man  of  cultivated  taste  and  refined  feeling. 
His  soul  is  full  of  poetry,  and  his  feelings  alive  to  every  charm  that 
is  earthly.  He  can  look  out  on  the  face  of  the  evening  sky,  or  watch 
the  tints  of  dawn,  and  admire  such  beauties ; but  his  soul  never  looks 
up,  “through  nature’s  works  to  nature’s  God.”  He  can  enter  into 
deep  communion  wdth  what  is  perfect  in  the  natural  world,  but  he 
holds  none  with  the  Father  of  his  spirit.  Music,  too,  is  his  delight. 
He  can  eagerly  give  himself  away  to  the  melody  of  sweet  sounds ; but 
with  all  this  he  stands  without  the  threshold  of  the  moral  temple  of  God, 
and  has  no  wish  to  enter  in  and  eat  the  food  of  angels.  The  thorns 
which  grow  on  Sinai  are  unpleasant  to  his  soul;  but  not  more  so  than 
are  the  roses  which  bloom  on  Calvary.  The  blending  tints  of  the 
summer -bow  awaken  a thrill  of  pleasure;  but  the  bow  of  mercy,  which 
hangs  over  the  cross  of  Jesus,  has  in  it  nothing  that  can  charm.  He 
lives,  plans,  and  acts  just  as  he  would  were  there  no  God  above  him, 
before  whom  every  thought  lies  naked.  Is  this  man — this  refined, 
cultivated  scholar — pursuing  the  object  for  which  he  was  created? 
And  if  every  cultivated  man  on  earth  should  do  precisely  as  he  does, 
w^ould  the  w^orld  advance  in  knowledge,  virtue,  or  religion?  Man  was 
created  for  purposes  high  and  noble — such  as  angels  engage  in,  and  in 
comparison  with  which  all  other  objects  sink  into  insignificance,  and 
all  other  enjoyments  are  contemptible  as  ashes. 

^ The  distinguished  Pascal  has  a thought  which  is  well  worth  examina^ 
tion,  especially  by  all  those  who  .are  conscious  of  living  for  other  aims 
than  those  which  ought  to  be  the  real  end  of  life.  “All  our  endeavors 
after  greatness  proceed  from  nothing  but  a desire  of  being  surrounded 
by  a multitude  of  persons  and  affairs  that  may  hinder  us  from  looking 


186 


PtrnsrriT  of  wfalth.  [cs.  x. 

into  ourselves;  which  is  a view  we  cannot  bear.”  Probably  few  are 
conscious  that  this  is  the  reason  why  they  so  busily  waste  their  lives  in 
unworthy  pursuits,  though  none  can  be  insensible  of  having  the  effect 
produced.  ° 

Every  youth  who  reads  these  pages  expects  to  be  active,  to  be  in- 
fluential, and  to  have  some  object  of  pursuit  every  way  worthy  of  his 
aims.  That  object  will  be  one  of  the  four  following— pleasure,  wealth 
r human  applause,  or  genuine  benevolence.  ’ 

I shall  not  stop  to  dwell  upon  these.  No  argument  need  be  ur^ed 
to  show  how  utterly  unworthy  of  his  education,  of  his  friends,  and  of 
himself,  he  acts,  who  so  degrades  himself  as  to  make  the  appetites  and 
passions  of  his  animal  nature  the  object  of  life,  and  who  looks  to  them 
tor  happiness.  Let  him  know  that  there  is  not  an  appetite  to  be  grati- 
fied, which  does  not  pall  and  turn  to  be  an  enemy,  the  moment  it  has 
become  his  master.  It  makes  him  a slave  with  ail  his  degradation  and 
sorrows,  without  any  of  the  slave’s  freedom  from  thought  and  anticipa- 
tion. You  cannot  give  way  to  any  appetite,  without  feeling  instant 
and  constant  degradation  ; and  he  who  sinks  in  such  a way  that  he 
despises  himself  aviU  soon  be  a ivretch  indeed.  Consicence  can  be 
deadened  and  murdered  in  no  ivay  so  readily  as  by  such  indulgence: 
the  mind  can  be  iveakened,  and  every  intellectual  effort  forever  killed* 
m no  way  so  readily  as  in  this.  If  you  ivould  at  ouce  seal  your 
degradation,  for  time  and  eternity,  and  forever  blast  every  hope  of 
peace,  greatness,  or  usefulness,  I can  tell  you  how  to  do  it  all.  You 
have  only  to  cultivate  your  appetites,  and'^give  Avay  to  the  demands  of 
your  passions,  and  drink  of  these  stolen  wmters  AA^hich  are  SAveet  and 
eat  of  that  biead,  in  secret,  Avhich  is  forbidden,  and  you  may  rest 
assured  that  you  have  chosen  a path  AA^hich  is  straight— but  it  is  straight 
to  rum.  ° 

The  pursuits  of  wealth  are  less  debusing,  more  refined,  and  every 
AA^ay  more  honorable.  But  they  are  not  AAmrthy  of  you.  You  can 
pursue  wealth  and  cultivate  selfishness  at  eA^ery  step:  you  may  do  it 
with  a heart  that  idolizes  wdiat  it  gains,  and,  could  it  knoAv  that  Avhat 
it  gathers  to-day  would  continue  in  the  family  for  centuries,  and  be 
constantly  increasing,  Avould  idolize  it  still  more.  But  here  let  me 
say,  that  if  Avealth  be  your  object,  you  have  mistaken  your  path.  A 
student  seeking  Avealth ! There  is  no  situation  in  the  land  in  AA^hicli  you 
could  not  obtain  it  easier  and  faster  than  by  study.  No  class  of  men 
are  in  so  poor  a situation  to  become  Avealthv  as  students;  and  no  class 
of  men  in  proportion  to  their  time,  their  labor,  and  their  efforts,  are 
so  poorly  paid  as  professional  men;  and  if  Avealth  Avere  my  object,  I 
hardly  know  of  any  business  Avhich  I Avould  not  rather  undertake  as  a 


CII.  X.] 


DESIRE  OF  FAME. 


187 


means  by  which  to  obtain  it,  than  either  of  the  professions  in  this 
country.  A student  cannot  become  wealthy,  in  ordinary  circumstances, 
without  contracting  his  soul  to  a degree  which  destroys  all  his  claims 
to  be  a student. 

But  the  strongest  temptation  which  will  beset  you,  is  to  live  and  act 
under  the  influence  of  ambition,  and  to  sell  your  time,  and  efforts,  and 
yourself,  indeed,  for  human  applause.  There  is  no  stream  so  sweet  as 
that  which  flows  from  this  fountain.  But  you  httle  know  the  dangers 
which  wait  around  the  man  who  would  drink  here — the  archers  which 
lie  in  ambush.  There  are  so  many  things  to  diminish  the  gratifications 
which  ambition  bestows,  that,  were  there  no  higher,  no  nobler  end  ot 
existence,  it  would  seem  dangerous  to  pursue  this.  How  many  begin 
life  with  high  hopes,  with  expectations  almost  unbounded,  who,  in  a 
little  time,  sink  down  into  discouragement  and  listlessness,  because  they 
find  the  tree  higher  up  the  mountain  than  they  expected,  and  its  fruit 
more  difficult  to  be  obtained ! But  suppose  a man  be  successful,  and 
the  measure  of  his  desires  begins  to  be  filled.  As  you  come  close  to 
him,  you  discover  spots  which  were  not  seen  at  a distance,  and  blem- 
ishes which  the  first  glare  of  brightness  concealed.  These  weaknesses 
are  noted,  trumpeted,  magnified;  and  multiplied,  till  it  seems  astonish-, 
ing  how  a character  can  be  great  under  such  a load  of  infirmities. 
These  are  vexations ; they  are  like  little  dogs  which  hang  upon  your 
Jieels  all  the  day,  and  which  give  you  no  peace  at  night.  But  these 
you  can  endure.  You  may  live  in  spite  of  having  every  blemish,  which 
your  public  character  exposes,  published  abroad.  But  suppose  you 
make  a single  false  step,  as  you  mount  the  hill — where,  then,  are  you? 

How  many,  who  have  made  the  applause  of  men  the  breath  of  their 
nostrils,  have  seen  all  tbeir  hopes  dashed  in  the  very  morning  of  their 
lives,  by  some  step  which  they  took  in  furtherance  of  their  object,  but 
which,  in  fact,  was  a mistaken  step ! The  wheel  was  broken  at  once, 
and  with  it  their  schemes,  and  perhaps  their  hearts.  But  this  is  not 
the  worst  of  what  is  before  you,  if  you  live  for  applause.  Admiration 
for  anything  on  earth  cannot  endure  long.  It  will  always  be  short- 
lived ; and  there  is  quite  as  much  difficulty  in  keeping  up  a reputation, 
as  in  gaining  it  at  the  first.  It  takes  us  but  a short  time  to  say  all  ouu 
pretty  sayings,  and  ail  our  smart  things.  A reputation  which  has  cost : 
you  years  of  toil  to  obtain,  is  no  less  difficult  to  keep  than  to  acquire. 
If  that  reputation  be  not  still  rising  and  increasing  in  splendor,  it  will 
soon  begin  to  droop  and  decay.  Your  best  actions  must  become 
better  still — your  highest  efforts  must  become  higher  still — or  you 
sink ; and  after  all,  do  what  you  will,  and  as  well  as  you  will,  still  you 
do  not  more  than  barely  meet  expectation.  You  exert  yourself,  and 


188 


DESIRE  OF  FAME. 


[CH.  X. 


you  make  a fine  speech;  or  you  produce  a masterly  dissertation;  or 
you  write  an  interesting  and  a valuable  book ; and  the  question  is,  not 
whether  you  have  fallen  below  the  subject,  or  below  yourself,  but  have 
you  not  fallen  below  the  standard  which  others  have  capriciously  set  for 
you?  If  you  have,  you  are  going  down  the  hill,  in  fame.  A man 
writes  a book — it  is  his  first  effort.  It  is  received  w-ell,  even  with  a])- 
plause.  He  writes  another ; and  now  he  is  not  to  be  measured  by  what 
he  did  before.  He  must  be  measured  by  the  standard  of  public  opin- 
ion; and  a reception  which  would  raise  a new  author,  is  ruin  to  him. 

All  this  price  you  must  certainly  pay,  if  you  live  for  the  applause  of 
your  fellow-men.  They  will  bestow  no  more  of  it  than  they  can  avoid ; 
they  will  recall  it  as  soon  as  an  opportunity  allows ; and  they  will  feel  : 
that  neglect  is  your  due,  in  future,  as  a counterweight  to  what  has  been 
so  liberally  thrown  into  the  other  scale.  The  pursuits  of  ambition  are  i 
successions  of  jealous  disquietudes,  of  corroding  fears,  of  high  hopes,  ; 
of  restless  desires,  and  of  bitter  disappointment.  There  is  e\’er  a void 
in  the  soul—  a reaching  forth  toward  the  empty  air,  and  a lighting  up  | 
of  new  desires  in  the  heart.  It  seems  to  me  to  have  been  mere  affec-  j 
tation  in  Caesar,  who  said — and  his  repeating  it  so  often  strengthens  the  i 
supposition  of  affectation — that  he  “had  enough  of  fame” — se  satis  \ 
ml  ad  naturam.,  ml  ad  gloriam  vixisse.  Few  can  believe  that  the  em-  i 
yperor  could  have  been  sincere  in  this  declaration.  ; 

^ There  are  other  vexations,  and  certain  disappointments,  attending  ’ 
him  who  lives  for  the  good  opinion  of  men,  which  are  unknown  till  ^ 
they  come  upon  you,  but  which  are  distressing  in  the  extreme,  when 
they  do  come.  That  desire  after  fame  which  moves  you,  soon  becomes 
feverish,  and  is  constantly  growing  stronger  and  stronger.  And  in 
proportion  to  your  desire  for  applause,  and  the  good  opinion  of  men,  is 
your  mortification  deep  and  distressing,  when  applause  is  withheld. 

If  praise  elates  and  excites  you,  the  withholding  that  praise  will  pro- 
portionably  sink  your  spirits  and  destroy  your  comfort.  You  are  thus 
a mere  foot-ball  among  men,  thrown  wherever  they  please,  and  in  the 
power  of  every  man ; for  every  man  can  take  away  your  peace,  if  he 
pleases,  and  every  man  is  more  tempted  to  bestow  censures  than  ap- 
plause. One  thing  more — If  you  set  your  heart  on  the  applauses  of 
men,  you  will  find  that,  if  you  receive  them,  the  gift  will  not,  and 
cannot,  bestow  positive  happiness  upon  you,  while  the  withholding  of 
them  will  clothe  you  with  certain  and  positive  misery.  A disappointed 
man  of  ambition  is  miserable,  not  because  his  loss  is  really  so  great, 

’ but  because  his  imagination  has,  for  years,  been  making  it  appear  great 
. to  him.  I could  point  you  to  the  grave  of  a most  promising  man,  who 
lived  for  honors  solely.  The  first  distinct  object  on  which  he  fijced  his 


CH.  X.] 


DESIBE  OF  FAME 


189 


eye,  was  to  be  a representative  in  congress.  For  this  he  toiled  day 
and  night.  He  was  every  way  worthy;  but  just  as  he  was  on  the 
point  oi  succeeding,  when  the  convention  had  met  to  nominate  him, 
one  of  his  best  friends  felt  that  such  an  appointment  would  interfere 
with  his  own  schemes  of  petty  ambition,  and,  therefore,  he  stepped  in 
and  prevented  the  nomination.  The  poor  man  returned  home  sick, 
cast  down,  and  broken-hearted.  The  loss  of  that  election  certainly 
was  not  of  any  great  consequence,  but  he  had  brooded  over  it  till  it  was 
of  immense  consequence  in, his  view.  The  blow  withered  him,  and  in  a 
few  months  he  went  down  to  his  grave  the  prey  of  disappointment. 
Is  such  a pursuit  worthy  of  man  ? Is  this  the  high  end  of  life  on  earth  ? 
A distinguished  writer,  who  thus  lived  for  fame,  not  only  outlived  his 
fame,  but  the  powers  of  his  own  mind;  and  many  were  the  hours,  in 
broken  old  age,  which  he  spent  in  weeping,  because  he  could  not  un- 
derstand the  books  which  he  wrote  when  young.  What  a picture  could 
the  painter  produce,  with  such  a subject  before  him ! 

“We  blusli,  detected  in  designs  on  praise, 

Though  for  best  deeds,  and  from  the  best  of  men; 

And  why? — because  immortal.  Art  divine 
Has  made  the  body  tutor  to  the  soul: 

Heaven  kindly  gives  our  blood  a moral  flow; 

Bids  it  ascend  the  glowing  cheek,  and  there 
Upbraid  that  little  heart’s  inglorious  aim, 

Which  stoops  to  court  a character  from  man: 

Ambition’s  boundless  appetite  outspeaks 
The  verdict  of  its  shame.  When  souls  take  fire 
At  high  presumptions  of  their  own  desert, 

One  age  is  poor  applause:  the  mighty  shout, 

The  thunder  by  the  living  few  begun, 

Late  time  must  echo,  worlds  unborn  resound. 

We  wish  our  names  eternally  to  live. 

Wild  dream!  which  ne’er  had  haunted  human  thought. 

Had  not  our  natures  been  eternal  too. 

Fame  is  the  shade  of  immortality. 

And  in  itself  a shadow  ; — soon  as  caught. 

Contemned,  it  shrinks  to  nothing  in  the  grasp. 

Man  must  soar. 

An  obstinate  activity  within. 

An  insuppressive  spring,  will  toss  him  up 
In  spite  of  fortune’s  loads. 

And  why? — because  immortal  as  his  Lord. 

And  souls  immortal  must  forever  heave 
At  something  great — the  glitter  or  the  gold — 

The  praise  of  mortals,  or  the  praise  of  heaven.” 

This  brings  me  to  the  point  at  which  I am  wishing  to  come.  This  1 
something  great,  ’ ’ at  which  we  ‘ ‘ heave,  ’ ’ may  be  great  in  reahty , or  i 
only  ^eat  because  we  make  it  so.  But  while  I have  thus  briefly  tried 


190 


TEE  HIGH  END  OF  LIFE. 


[CH.  X.  ^ 

to  show  you  that  in  neither  of  the  ways  described  will  you  find  what  i 
ought  to  be  the  object  of  living,  you" will  understand  that  there  is  I 
.nothing  in  the  spirit  or  philosophy  of  the  gospel,  which  throws  the  soul  S 
back  upon  herself  without  giving  her  any  object  upon  which  her  pow-  | 
I ers  may  be  exerted.  If  we  would  drive  the  love  of  pleasure,  the  love  | 
of  wealth,  and  the  love  of  human  applause  from  the  heart,  we  do  not  \ 
propose  to  leave  that  heart  cold  and  desolate,  with  nothing  to  clieer  - 
iand  warm  it,  or  to  call  forth  its  warmest,  holiest,  noblest  sympathies.  ‘ 
Far  from  it.  But  what  I wish  is,  that  you  may  so  lay  your  plans,  and  ■ 
I so  pursue  the  object  which  you  place  before  the  mind,  that  you  may  " 
have  continued  contentment  and  peace  while  pursuing  it,  tli^  conscious-  ^ 
ness  of  not  living  m vain,  while  your  soul  is  expanding  in  all  noble,  ; 
heavenly  qualities,  and  preparing  for  a destiny  which  is  blessed  with  ^ 
the  pure  fight  of  immortality.  ! 

“At  tibi  juveiitiis,  at  tibi  immortalitas: 

Tibi  parta  divium  est  vita.  Periment  mutuis 

Elementa  sese  et  interibunt  ictibus.  ; 

Tu  permanebis  sola  semper  Integra, 

Tn  cuncta  reruin  quassa,  cuncta  naufraga, 

Jam  portu  in  ipso  tuta,  contemplabere.  ” 

He  who  has  the  advantages  and  the  responsibilities  of  the  student, 
needs  to  act  under  a motive  which  is  all- pervading,  which  guides  at 
all  times,  in  all  circumstances,  and  which  absorbs  the  whole  soul.  It 
should  be  such  as  will  lead  to  a high,  noble  standard  of  action  and 
feelings,  and  as  will  call  forth  the  highest  efforts  of  the  whole  man, 
body  and  soul,  in  enterprise,  which  will  do  good  to  men.  There  is  but 
one  motive  which  has  these  qualities ; and  that  is,  to  secure  the  appro- 
bation of  God,  and  act  on  a scale  which  measures  eternity,  as  well  as 
time.  Under  the  light  of  the  Bible,  with  the  wish  to  do  what  God 
would  have  you  do,  you  vrill  not  fail  of  meeting  and  fulfilling  the  great 
object  of  life. 

You  will  naturally  ask  here,  is  \i  practicdble  to  have  the  high  standard 
of  acting  for  the  glory  of  God  constantly  before  you ; I reply,  unques- 
tionably, Yes. 

You  know  that  we  have  the  power  of  choosing  any  object  on  which 
to  fix  the  heart,  to  look  at  the  motives  which  should  gather  the  affec- 
tions around  that  object,  and  then  we  have  the  power  of  bending  the 
whole  energy  of  the  soul  to  the  attainment  of  that  object.  Pmnos- 
thenes  was  an  ambitious  young  man.  He  is  thought  to  have  had  very 
little  principle;  but  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  fame — on  that  species  of  popu- 
lar applause  which  eloquence  alone  can  command.  The  mark  at  which 
be  gazed  was  high.  From  it  he  never  turned  his  eye  a single  moment, 


an.  X.]  mAMPLES  OF  THE  FORCE  OF  WILL.  191 

Difficulties,  which  nature  threw  in  his  way,  were  overcome.  He  gave 
his  heart,  his  soul,  to  seeking  renown:  he  climbed  up  a hill,  where 
most  would  have  slid  down,  and,  with  his  own  hand,  he  wrote  in  the 
book  of  immortality,  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  his  own  deathless  fame. 
His  admirer,^  Cicero,  tells  us,  that  he  always  had  a standard  of  great- 
ness before  him,  \^ich  was  unmeasured — infinite.  He  determined  to 
stand  by  the  side  of  Demosthenes.  He  labored ; he  toiled ; he  achieved 
the  victory,  and  stands,  perhaps,  as  high  up  the  hill  of  fame  as  his 
master.  He  made  himself.  We  often  speak  of  self-made  men,  of  high 
renown  and  wonderful  deeds.  What  made  them  great  ? What  made 
Bonaparte  the  terror  of  the  earth?  He  fixed  his  eye  on  the  dominion 
of  Europe  at  least,  and  toward  that  goal  he  ran  like  a strong  man ; and 
to  it  he  would  have  attained,  had  there  not  been  an  Omnipotence  in 
heaven  which  can  make  the  strong  man  as  tow.  He  made  himself  his 
own  idol,  and  determined  that  the  whole  world  should  bow  to  it. 

What  made  Paul  the  man  that  he  was?  It  was  his  fixing  his  eye , 
on  one  vast  object,  and  never  looking  away.  That  object  was,  to 
bring  the  whole  world  to  a knowledge  of  the  Gospel,  to  the  obedience 
of  the  faith,  and  to  lead  them  up  the  paths  of  life.  Ho  smaller^ 
object  filled  his  vision;  and  with  such  a pur})ose  filling  his  soul,  he? 
could  trample  on  the  earth,  and  walk  upon  the  thorns  which  persecu-C 
tion  threw  in  his  path,  as  if  they  were  roses.  What  made  David 
l^rainerd?  He  forgot  himself;  he  threw  himself  away;  he  fixed  his 
heart  on  bringing  the  w^anderers  of  the  desert  to  sing  of  redeeming 
mercy.  For  this  he  lived,  toiled,  wmre  out,  and  came  to  his  rest  in 
the  grave,  till  the  morning  of  the  resurrection. 

You  know  that  this  jman  has  the  power  of.  fixing  his  heart  on  ambi-*^/ 
tion,_and  dreaming  over  Its  "schemes,  till  they^w^allow  up  everything^ 
else  :^^hat  another  can  fix  his  heart,  on  w^ealth; another  on  thev. 
^asures  of^sensual  indulgences;  and  every  man  on  the  object  which 
IS  mdsF  Congenial  to  himself.  Can  you  doubt  that  you  have  the  power', 
oTmakihg  the  polar  star  of  life? — of  living  for  it  and  to  it? — of  rising! 
high  and  strong  in  action? — high  and  bright  in  personal  holiness,  and; 
having  the  image  and  superscription  of  God  engraven  on  your  heart  ? 

Is  it  your  duty  to  make  the  will  of  God  your  only  standard  of  life? 

Ask  your  reason.  What  says  she?  “Shall  I give  my  heart  to  seek- 
ing wealth,  and  the  treasures  of  earth?”  Ho:  it  will  take  to  itself 
wings  and  fly  away.  Death  will  shortly,  be  here,  and  seize  you  with  a 

frasp  so  firm,  that  you  must  let  go  of  wealth.  You  sigh  after  gold 
eeply:  you  must  shut  your  eyes,  shortly,  upon  all  that  is  called 
wealth.  Kemember  that  he  who  “maketh  haste  to  be  rich  shall  not 
be  innocent.”  But  your  soul  spreads  in  her  desires;  she  thirsts;  she 


193 


[CONSULT  REASON  AND  CONSOIENCR 


[cit.  t. 


rises : and  do  you  suppose  that  any  amount  of  wealth  which  you  can  \ 
obtain  will  satisfy  her  ? Will  the  little  time  which  is  yours,  cheer  the 
soul  in  her  everlasting  progress?  No:  the  bag  in  which  you  drop  your  \ 
gain  will  have  holes  in  it.  Every  river  which  flows  over  golden  sands, 
like  the  river  of  Eygpt,  will  turn  to  blood.  ■ 

Ask  reason,  ‘ ‘ Shall  I give  my  heart  to  honors  ? to  seeking  the  notice  i 
of  men?  to  draw  their  attention  by  this  or  that  effort?”  Plow  poor 
Avfll  be  your  reward  for  your  pains ! If  you  draw  the  eyes  of  man  I 
toward  you,  he  will  envy  you.  If  you  do  not,  you  will  be  bitterly  dis  , 
appointed.  There  is  no  house  on  the  shores  of  time,  which  the  waves  i 
will  not  wash  away ; there  is  no  path  here  which  the  foot  of  disappoint- 
ment will  not  tread ; there  is  no  sanctuary  here  which  sorro\vs  will  not  ^ 
invade.  Thei’e  is  a home  provided  for  the  soul,  but  you  can  reach  it  ' 
only  by  living  for  God ; to  none  others  than  those  who  thus  live  will  ' 
its  doors  be  opened. 

Consult  your  conscience  also.  What  does  she  say  is  the  great  end 
of  life?  Listen  to  her  voice  in  the  chambers  of  your  own  heart.  She 
tells  you  that  there  is  only  one  stream  that  is  pure,  and  that  stream 
flows  from  the  throne  of  God;  but  one  aim  is  noble  and  worthy  of  an 
immortal  spirit,  and  that  is  to  become  the  friend  of  God,  so  that  the 
soul  may  Aving  her  Avay  over  the  grave  without  fear,  Avithout  dismay, 
Avithout  condemnation.  There  is  only  one  path  passing  over  the  earth 
Avhich  is  safe,  Avhich  is  light,  Avhich  is  honorable.  It  is  that  which 
Jesus  Christ  has  marked  out  in  his  Avord,  and  AAdiich  leads  to  glory. 
Let  conscience  speak,  Avhen  you  are  tempted  to  Avaste  a day,  or  an 
hour,  or  to  commit  any  knoAAm  sin,  to  neglect  any  knoAvn  duty,  and 
she  Avifl  urge  you,  by  all  the  high  and  holy  motives  of  eternity,  to  live 
for  God,  to  give  your  powers  to  him,  to  seek  his  honor  in  all  that  you 
do. 

My  young  reader  will  now  permit  me  to  present  Avhat  appear  to  me 
the  motiv^es  Avhich  ought  to  bear  upon  the  mind,  to  lead  it  thus  to 
act — making  the  honor  of  God  the  great  end  of  life. 

We  naturally  love  to  have  the  soul  filled.  We  gaze  upon  the  ever- 
lasting brow  of  the  mountain  Avhich  rises  beetling  and  threatening  over 
our  heads,  and  the  feeling  of  admiration  which  fills  the  soul  is  delight- 
ful. We  gaze  upon  the  ocean  rolling  in  its  mighty  Avaves,  and  listen 
to  its  hoarse  voice  responding  to  the  spirit  of  the  storm  Avhich  hangs 
over  it,  and  Ave  feel  an  aAve,  and  the  emotion  of  sublimity  rises  in  the 
soul.  So  it  is  Avith  the  desires.  There  is  something  inexpressibly  de- 
lightful in  having  the  mind  filled  with  a great  and  a noble  purpose — 
such  a purpose  as  may  laAvfully  absorb  all  the  feelings  of  the  heart, 
and  kindle  every  desire  of  the  soul.  Who  ever  reared  a dwelling  per 


THE  SOUL  MUST  BE  FILLED. 


193 


CH.  X.] 

feet  enough  to  meet  the  desires  of  the  soul?  Who  ever  had.  a suffi- 
ciency of  wealth,  or  of  honors,  ^vhen  these  were  the  grand  objects  of 
pursuit  ? Who  ever  had  the  thirst  quenched  by  drinking  here?  And 
who  ever  had  an  earthly  object  engrossing  the  heart,  which  did  not 
leave  room  for  restlessness,  a desire  of  change,  and  a fretting  and 
chafing  in  its  pursuit  ? Not  so  when  the  glory  of  God  fills  the  soul, 
and  the  eye  is  fixed  on  that  as  the  great  end  of  life.  You  may  live 
near  him,  and  draw  continually  nearer;  and  the  soul  does  not  feel  the 
passion  of  envy,  or  jealousy,  or  disappointment,  as  she  comes  near  the 
object  of  her  desires.  Having,  increases  the  desire  for  more,  and  more 
is  added ; for  sin  has  no  connection  with  the  gift.  They  who  are  near 
the  throne  are  full  of  this  one  thought — how  can  we  do  most  to  pro- 
mote the  glory  of  Him  who  is  over  all,  God  blessed  forever?  No  con- 
tracted plans,  no  trifling  thoughts,  no  low  cares,  enter  their  bosoms; 
for  they  are  already  filled. 

Who  does  not,  more  or  less,  feel  the  burden  of  sm?  Make  God  the 
object  of  life,  and  you  Avill  not  sin  as  you  now  do.  The  Avord  of  life  is 
choked  by  cares;  it  is  shut  out  by  ambition;  it  is  treated  AAuth  scorn, 
Avhen  the  soul  presses  on  for  present  gratifications.  The  tempter  neAW 
has  so  complete  mastery  over  yon,  as  AAffien  you  fill  the  heart  Avith  this 
world,  and  live  for  its  reAvards.  Not  so  when  you  live  for  your  Maker. 
In  vain  he  Avalked  around  the  Redeemer,  and  heaped  up  his  tempta- 
tions ; he  found  no  place  in  him — not  a spot  Avhere  he  could  lodge  a 
temptation.  Do  you  never  lament,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  that  you 
have  fallen,  here  and  there,  during  the  day  ? — that  your  heart  is  frozen 
and  fearful,  Avhen  you  attempt  to  pray? — that  a dark  cloud  rolls  in 
betAA^een  you  and  the  Sun  of  life?  Fill  the  heart  with  good,  and  evil  is 
shut  out. 

You  need  a principle  which  Avill  lead  you  to  be  active  for  the  Avelfare 
of  men.  Your  reason  and  conscience  may  decide,  that  you  ought  to 
liA^e  for  the  good  of  your  species ; and,  at  times,  yon  may  rouse  up ; but 
the  moving  power  is  not  uniform  and  steady.  Yon  need  a principle 
which  Avill  ever  keep  you  aliA^e  to  duty.  You  can  act  but  a few  days 
on  earth.  BetAveen  every  rising  and  setting  sun,  multitudes  drop  into 
eternity.  Your  turn  Avill  come  shortly.  You  will  soon  know  Avhether 
you  are  foreA^er  to  Avear  a croAvn,  or  be  clothed  Avith  shame  and 
everlasting  contempt — soon  knoAv  how  bright  that  croAvn  is,  or 
hoAv  deep  that  despair  is.  All  the  retributions  of  the  eternal  Avorld  Avill 
soon  be  rolled  upon  you,  and  you  Avant  a principle  abiding  Avithin  you, 
which  will  bear  you  on  in  duty,  active,  laborious,  self-denying,  A\dden- 
ing  your  influence,  and  adding  strength  to  your  character  and  hopes 
through  life ; but  thi§  principle  is  to  be  obtained  only  by  seeking  His 


i94:  GREAT  MOTIVES,  [ch.  x. 

approbation  Worn  whom  you  receive  every  mercy  that  has  ever  visited 
your  heart,  every  joy  that  has  cheered  you,  and  every  hope  for  which  ^ 
the  heart  longs.  : 

You  love  to  see  the  results  of  yom^  exertions  in  any  cause;  but  you  i 
cannot,  in  all  cases  in  which  you  plan,  and  fill  up  your  plans.  You 
may  determine  to  be  rich,  and  yet  die  a poor  man.  Y ou  may  long  for 
distinction,  and  yet  never  have  it.  You  may  sigh  for  pleasure,  and 
yet  every  cup  may  be  dashed,  and  every  hope  flee  from  you.  All 
things  around  you  may  forsake  you  and  elude  your  grasp.  Not  so  if  I 
you  live  for  God.  Lay  up  wealth  in  heaven — and  you  may  increase  it  I 
daily — and  it  cannot  fail  you.  Try  to  subdue  that  temper,  so  irritable,  | 
so  unholy,  and  you  will  find  that  if  you  you  do  it  for  the  purpose  of  1 
honoring  God,  he  will  give  you  strength.  Try  to  conquer  that  covet-  J 
ousness  which  is  idolatry,  and  you  can  do  it  effectually  and  thoroughly  ^ 
by  subduing  the  heart  for  the  sake  of  hving  entirely  to  God.  You  offer  ? 
a:  prayer  for  men, — it  shall  not  be  lost  upon  the  wind.  You  send  a ^ 
copy  of  the  Scriptures  to  the  destitute, — it  shall  not  be  lost  by  the  way-  I 
side.  The  messenger  of  mercy  whom  you  aid  in  sending  abroad,  will  | 
find  the  hungry,  who  will  receive  the  bread  of  life.  And  when,  at  last,  -j 
you  come  to  be  gathered  to  the  home  of  prophets  and  apostles,  and  the  i 
spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  then  will  you  still  more  clearly  see  | 
the  results  of  a life  whose  aim  was  to  honor  God.  Then  will  the  poor  .1 
whom  you  fed,  the  sick  whom  you  visited,  the  stranger  whom  you  j 
sheltered,  the  distressed  whom  you  relieved,  gather  around  you,  and  I 
hail  you  a benefactor.  i 

You  ought  to  act  upon  principles  which  conscience  will,  in  all  times 
and  in  all  cases,  approve.  " Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  sit  down  to 
meditate,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  and  have  something  hang  upon  the 
soul  hke  lead — to  have  a cloud  between  you  and  the  throne  of  prayer? 
Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  lie  down  at  night,  and  look  back  upon  the 
day,  and  the  days  that  are  passing,  and  find  no  bright  spot  upon  which 
the  memory  lingers  with  pleasure?  Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  lie  on 
your  pillow  and  feel  the  smitings  of  conscience,  and  have  the  heart- 
ache, while  the  clock  slowly  measures  off  the  hours  of  night  ? This  is 
because  conscience  is  at  her  post,  calling  the  soul  to  account.  She 
lashes,  she  heaves  up  the  waves  of  guilt,  till  the  soul  feels  like  being 
buried  under  them.  Do  you  not  thus  commune  with  your  heart  at 
times  ? But  if  you  will  live  for  God — wholly  for  God — conscience  will 
soothe  you,  comfort  you,  and  bring  hope  to  your  soul,  even  in  your 
darkest  hour.  No  friend  can  be  found  to  supply  the  place  of  a peace- 
ful conscience.  Men  will  give  their  property,  their  time,  do  penance, 
give  their  lives — anything  to  appease  conscience.  Let  them  five  for 


CH.  X.] 


THE  APPROVAL  OF  MOT)  UNFAILINO. 


195 

God  and  his  service,  and  she  will  not  chide;  she  will  guide  to  the  paths 
of  peace  and  blessedness.  The  world  will  honor  the  man  who  lives  for 
God.  At  times,  men  will  shun  the  face  of  the  pious,  and  profess  to  be 
disgusted  with  piety ; but  they  will  garnish  the  sepulchers  of  prophets, 
while  the  bones  of  the  wicked  lie  forgotten.  The  name  of  Howard  will 
never  perish;  nor  will  the  name  of  Martyn,  or  Mills,  Brainerd,  or 
Hannah  More;  while  thousands  of  wicked  men,  with  equal  or  more 
influence,  while  living,  die,  and  are  forever  gone  from  remembrance. 
But  the  approbation  of  men  is  of  no  consequence.  You  wish  the  appro- 
bation of  Heaven.  Though  the}^  are  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand, 
and  their  voices  are  without  number,  and  though  they  enjoy  the  per- 
fection of  knowledge,  the  perfection  of  holiness,  and  the  perfection  of 
bliss,  yet  they  are  all  witnesses — a great  cloud — of  your  race.  They 
bend  over  your  pathv\ray,  as  you  run  toward  the  Hew  Jerusalem. 
Who  would  not  be  cheered,  could  he  have  the  entire  approbation  of  all 
his  friends  and  acquaintances?  But  though  you  cannot  expect  this, 
you  can  have  what  is  far  better.  You  can  have  the  approbation' of  all 
the  reedemed,  of  all  the  angels  in  heaven,  and  of  the  eternal  God  him- 
self ; and  this,  not  for  an  hour,  a day,  or  a week,  for  a fleeting  year, 
but  forever!  The  heavens  shall  depart  as  a scroll,  and  all  things  shall 
pass  away,  except  the  approbation  of  God.  That  shall  never  pass 
away.  It  would  be  worth  your  life  to  have  his  approbation  a single 
hour  when  you  come  to  die  ; but  you  will  have  him  your  Father, 
Friend,  and  Glory,  forever.  Have  you  any  doubt  in  yoiir  mind  where 
wisdom  would  now  lead  you?  “My  first  convictions  on  the  subject 
of  religion  were  confirmed  from  observing  that  really  religious  persons 
had  some  solid  happiness  among  them,  which  I had  felt  that  the  vani- 
ties of  the  world  could  not  give.  I shall  never  forget  standing  by  the 
bed  of  my  sick  mother. 

“ ‘Are  you  not  afraid  to  die?’ 

“ ‘Ho.’ 

“ ‘Ho!  Why  does  the  uncertainty  of  another  state  give  you  no  con- 
cern?’ 

Because  God  has  said  to  me.  Fear  not;  when  thou  passest  through 
the  waters^  I will  lye  with  thee;  and  through  the  rivers^  they  shall  not 
overflow  theeV 

“ The  remembrance  of  this  scene  has  oftentimes  since  drawn  an  ar- 
dent prayer  from  me,  that  I might  die  the  death  of  the  righteous.  ’ ’ 

It  is  a solemn  season  with  a man  who  acts  from  conscience,  when  he 
comes  to  close  his  book,  and  bid  his  reader  adieu.  His  motives  may 
be  good,  yet  it  is  human  to  err.  He  knows  that  he  may  have  made 
impressions  which  may  give  a wrong  bias  to  some,  from  which  they 


196  THE  WRITEH8  RESPONSIBILITY.  [ch.  x 

^vill  never  recover.  He  may  have  wasted  liis  strength,  and  his  reader’s 
time,  npon  some  point  of  comparatively  no  importance,  while  that 
whicli  was  really  of  great  importance  may  have  been  omitted.  He 
may  have  disgusted  where  he  hoped  to  instruct ; he  may  have  offended 
where  he  intended  to  impress.  At  any  rate,  he  is  about  to  send  a 
book  out  into  the  world,  which,  whatever  may  be  its  fate,  has  given, 
him  the  o])portunity  of  doing  good  ; and  under  that  responsibility 
the  writer  must  continue.  If  I mistake  not,  a sense  of  this  responsi- 
bility is  now  felt  by  the  author  of  these  pages.  I have  addressed 
a class  of  my  fellow-men,  who  will  yield  to  none  in  point  of  respecta- 
bility, prospective  influence,  and  importance.  I have  tried  to  throw 
before  them  such  hints  as  my  own  wants  and  limited  experience  have 
suggested;  and  T am  now  about  to  take  my  leave  of  them  till  I meet 
them,  face  to  face,  at  the  last  great  day  of  assembling,  where  we 
shall  all  meet.  I am  speaking  to  you,  reader,  in  your  own  behalf,  and 
in  behalf  of  a world  which  needs  your  influence,  and  your  highest, 
holiest  efforts.  Others  may  talk  of  philanthropy  and  benevolence ; but 
who  give  their  hearts  and  their  energies  for  the  salvation  of  the  world, 
except  those  whose  minds  have  been  enlightened,  and  whose  hearts 
have  been  impressed  by  the  truths  of  Christianity?  Who  built  the  first 
hospital  known  on  earth?  A Christian.  Who  conceived  the  idea  of 
free  schools  for  the  whole  community?  A Christian.  Who  are  the  men 
who  have  pushed  civilization  among  the  barbarous,  who  have  broken 
the  fetters  both  from  body  and  mind,  and  created  civil  liberty  for  man? 
Who  ever  made  efforts,  vigorous,  systematic,  untiring,  to  spread  free 
inquiry,  to  instruct  the  ignorant,  to  invigorate  the  mind,  and  raise  the 
intellectual  and  moral  character  of  mankind?  They  are  the  enlight- 
ened men  who  act  under  the  influence  of  the  Bible.  The  only  effort 
which  is  now  making,  on  the  face  of  the  whole  earth,  for  the  good  of 
mankind,  is  making  by  the  Church  of  the  living  God.  Upon  this,  and 
upon  this  alone,  all  our  hopes  for  the  salvation  of  the  world  from  dark- 
' ness,  ignorance,  and  sin,  rest.  To  the  youth  of  our  nation — to  those 
whose  minds  are  now  in  a process  of  cultivation  and  discipline,  we  now 
look  for  the  spirits  who  are  soon  to  go  abroad  over  the  face  of  the 
earth,  scattered,  like  the  Levites,  among  all  the  tribes,  for  the  good 
of  all.  Upon  these  young  soldiers  of  the  cross  do  we  look,  as  God’s 
appointed  instruments,  for  doing  a great  and  glorious  work.  If  the 
mind  of  man  shall  ever  be  raised  from  its  brutishness  and  debasement — 
if  knowledge,  human  and  divine,  are  to  go  abroad — if  liberty  is  to 
' wave  her  banner  where  tyranny  now  sits — if  the  female  is  ever  to 
. occupy  the  station  for  which  she  was  created — if  domestic  happiness  is 
to  be  known  and  enjoyed  through  the  world,  the  youth  in  our  schools. 


CH.  X.] 


THE  PRESENT  AGE. 


m 

who  have  been  baptized  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  have  a great  work  to  do.^ 
Never  did  young  men  approach  the  stage  of  action  under  circum- 
stances more  intensely  interesting — circumstances  which  demand  a re- 
generated, purified  heart,  a balanced,  disciplined  mind,  a burning  zeal 
and  eloquence,  and  a love  for  doing  good  which  many  waters  cannot 
quench,  nor  floods  drown.  You  tread  upon  ground  bought  with  hard- 
ships, tears,  and  prayers;  enfranchised  by  toil  and  blood;  and  institu- 
tions founded  by  the  most  devoted  piety  and  anxious  solicitude  of  our 
fathers.  It  is  the  land  of  the  Pilgrims — where  the  bones  of  more 
worthies  sleep  than  were  ever  before  buried  in  the  same  length  of  time. 
You  enter  among  men  in  a country  in  its  infancy.  The  nation  is 
young — lias  all  the  joyous  elasticity  of  the  young  giant — full  of  enter- 
prise, growing  in  wealth,  in  population — increasing  in  daring  experi- 
ments and  hazardous  enterprise.  An  experiment  in  regard  to  civil 
freedom,  and  the  destiny  of  a nation  let  loose,  with  nothing  to  check 
or  hold  it  but  the  intelligence  and  the  religion  which  are  diffused — a na- 
tion let  loose,  and  many  centuries  in  advance  of  all  other  nations  in  the 
science  of  government,  at  least,  and  yet  having  the  offals  of  all  other 
Christian  nations  constantly  floating  to  it — is  now  making.  You  are 
.to  live  and  act  among  those  who  will  give  permanency  to  our  institu- 
tions, or  you  will  begin  the  work  of  undermining.  You  are  coming 
forward  at  a time  when  mind  seems  to  be  exhausting  itself,  and  Genius 
to  be  leaving  poetry,  that  he  may  aid  in  subduing  matter,  so  that  a 
score  of  miles  may  be  reduced  to  nothing,  and  time  and  space  so  an- 
nihilated that  a journey  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  a continent 
is  only  a delightful  excursion.  Nature  seems  to  bend  to  the  torturing: 
and  winds  and  tides,  mountains  and  valleys,  make  no  pretensions  to 
being  considered  obstacles  in  the  way  of  men.  You  are  to  act  in  a 
day  when  public  opinion  is  omnipotent.  A standing  army  retires  be- 
fore it,  and  marshals  only  in  the  shade  of  the  thrones  of  tyrants.  Every 
thing  is  controlled  by  it ; and  yet  every  one  may  do  his  part  to  mould 
tliat  public  opinion  according  to  his  pleasure.  Every  man  has  the  best 
possible  opportunity  to  do  good  or  hurt.  You  may  pen  a sentence  or 
a paragraph,  and  it  will  travel  through  the  nation,  into  tens  of  thous- 
sands  of  families,  and,  in  a few  weeks,  pass  through  Europe,  and  in- 
fluence millions  of  immortal  beings.  You  are  coming  forward  at  a 
time,  and  in  a nation,  where  a good  education  is  a sure  passport  to 
respectability,  to  influence,  to  office.  No  difficulties  stand  in  your 
way.  The  teeming,  busy  millions  of  this  land  invite  you  to  mingle 
your  destiny  with  theirs,  and  aid  them  to  rise  in  Virtue,  in  knowledge, 
and  in  religion,  as  they  roll  on  toward  the  judgment-day.  You  have 
Mends  to  cheer  you  on  in  every  worthy  enterprise,  who  will  uphold  your 


CONCLUaiON, 


[CH,  X. 


hands  when  they  fall,  encourage  you  when  the  spirits  fail,  share  your 
burdens,  and  rejoice  in  your  success.  You  come  forward  with  the 
history,  the  experience  of  all  other  nations  before  you;  and  at  your 
feet  lie  pictures  of  men  whose  example  it  will  be  honor,  and  glory,  and 
immortality  to  follow,  as  well  as  of  men  whose  example  is  death.  You 
have  the  Bible,  too — that  mightiest  of  all  weapons — under  whose  broad 
and  powerful  aid,  individual  and  national  character  soon|  ripens  into 
greatness,  and  one  which  is,  of  all  others,  the  grand  instrument  of 
blessing  the  world.  Tens  of  thousands,  breathing  the  spirit  of  that 
book,  are  already  in  the  field  at  work,  trying  to  bless  and  save  the 
earth.  Some  fall — strong  ones,  too — “too  much  for  piety  to  spare;” 
but  the  plan  is  the  plan  of  God,  and  the  removal  of  this  or  that  agent 
does  not  a moment  retard  his  great  plans.  Under  the  full,  the  pure, 
the  purifying  light  of  the  Gospel,  you  are  called  to  live  and  act.  If 
you  live  for  God,  fulfill  the  high  destiny  which  is  before  you,  you  have 
thousands  all  around  you  to  cheer  you  onward,  to  strike  hands  with 
you,  and  go  forward  as  agents  of  a benevolence,  whose  aim  is,  to 
bring  many  sons  and  daughters  to  glory.  Above  you  are  the  pious 
dead,  watching  around  your  steps,  and  ready  to  minister  to  your  wants. 
And  there,  high  above  all  principalities  and  powers,  sits  the  everlasting 
Kedeemer,  holding  a crown  which  shall  shortly  be  yours,  if  you  are 
faithful  to  him.  He  will  be  near  you.  You  shall  never  faint.  Every 
sin  you  conquer  shall  give  you  new  strength;  every  temptation  you 
resist  will  make  you  more  and  more  free  in  the  Lord ; every  tear  you 
shed  will  be  noticed  by  your  great  High  Priest;  every  sigh  you  raise 
will  reach  his  ear.  Up,  then,  my  dear  young  friends!  up,  and  gird 
on  the  armor  of  God.  Enlist  under  the  banner  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
let  your  powers,  your  faculties,  your  energies,  your  heart,  all,  all  be 
his.  Bright  and  glorious  is  the  day  before  you;  white  and  full  are 
the  fields  that  wait  for  you:  girded  and  strong  are  the  companions 
who  will  go  with  you ; beautiful  upon  the  mountains  shall  be  your  feet, 
wherever  they  carry  tidings  of  mercy.  The  state  of  the  world  is  such, 
and  so  much  depends  on  action,  that  ever3rthing  seems  to  say  loudly, 
to  every  man,  ‘ ‘ Do  something’ ’ — ‘ ‘ do  it  1” — ‘ ‘do  it !”  Keep  your  heart 
with  all  diligence;  break  away  from  every  sin;  repent  of  every  sin; 
live  unto  God ; and  your  reward  shall  be  what  ‘ ‘ ear  hath  not  heard, 
eye  hath  not  seen,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  to 
^onceive.” 


THE  END. 


